


Your Bite Is Worse Than Your Bark

by AlonzoTheEboy



Category: Cats - Andrew Lloyd Webber
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, Graphic Violence, Highschool AU, M/M, Most of their names will be changed to fit into a human setting, Rivals to Lovers, Zombie AU, but cute romance nonetheless, but don't worry, if you can't figure out who it is by their name alone then they're probably an oc, no smut cause they're underaged, ocs will not affect the plot at all
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-28
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:07:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 28,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21551971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlonzoTheEboy/pseuds/AlonzoTheEboy
Summary: Tucker Russo is not having a good day. It feels like it's biting him in the ass over and over again, and if he's not careful, another bite could be the end of him.
Relationships: Mr. Mistoffelees/Rum Tum Tugger
Comments: 28
Kudos: 41





	1. Down By The River

**Author's Note:**

> Just for clarification up front,  
> Tucker - Tugger (obvs)  
> Malcolm - Munkustrap  
> Bill - Bill Bailey  
> Bucky - Carbucketty  
> if any of them seem unclear, please notify me so i can add their names and who they're supposed to be 😊

Someone must have left a window open because Tucker was getting an ear full of car horns. Wait, no. It was Tucker who opened the window. It had smelled like weed and that was the only solution he could come up with short of gassing the room with Febreze. If he had gassed it, then that would have been even more suspicious. Opening the window was the safer option. Bill’s parents could have guessed that they were letting the air in and not the smell of teenage wrongdoing out. If he remembered correctly, yesterday was full of weed, and sleep. Was it taboo to smoke on a Sunday? Tucker didn’t care if it was, he just wanted to know. He hadn’t gone home because he didn’t have money for the bus fare, but it didn’t matter. He could always catch the bus to school.

What time did the bus even go by Bill’s house?

Opening his eyes a crack, Tucker caught sight of the open window that allowed the blaring sound of cars into the room. The glass was a very light grey due to the clouds outside. If Tucker turned his head at the right angle, he could see the tip of a building, and if he tilted even more, he could see the sun behind the building. 

Strange. The sun seems a bit bright for the morning. It was around seven something, right? Giving them plenty of time to get to school, right?

“Oh, fuck!” Bill’s voice croaked from the bed. Tucker was lying in the gap that was between Bill’s bed and a wall. He must have rolled off or something. While Tucker had assessed his surroundings, Bill had not, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and planting them right on Tucker’s chest. It wasn’t until he was sputtering for breath that he got Bill’s attention and he took his feet off of him.

“Shit man, I’m sorry.” He huffed, already standing and walking towards his dresser. “We’re so fucking late man. I can’t believe I forgot to set my alarm!”

“What time is it?” Tucker lifted himself with the edge of the bed and rubbed his eyes. He almost didn’t see it when Bill tossed him his phone. The screen was already cracked to it wouldn’t have mattered if he didn’t catch it, but he still made an effort. Pressing the home button turned the screen on. It was locked, but the time above was still visible, displaying a “You’re royally fucked” 8:52.

Groans emitted from Tucker as he buried his face in his hands. Sleeping on the floor had not been his best decision. It felt as if his back was in the midst of getting a massage and was in the middle of the painful part, except the painful part just wouldn’t stop. Grateful that he was smart enough to strip before he passed out, Tucker went about looking for his clothes.

Bill was also busy putting on clothes. They didn’t fuck, did they? No, they probably didn’t, but whatever. Tucker gave up his search and sat on the bed, watching as Bill pulled on a shirt.

“Do you mind if I borrowed some clothes?” He asked, stretching. Bill tossed him a pair of pants without question, Tucker could tell that something was eating him up.

“Hey, um,” He started awkwardly, leaning against his dresser. “Did anything weird happen last night?”

Tucker shrugged. “What do you mean? Did we fuck or something?”

“No, nothing like that. I just have this weird feeling that something bad happened last night but we were too stoned to notice.”

“Well, I can’t tell you anything. I don’t remember a fucking thing that happened last night.” Tucker smiled. “Are you sure we didn’t fuck?”

“Does your ass hurt?”

“No.”

“Well neither does mine, so no, we didn’t fuck.”

Tucker was about to laugh at that when a sound caught his attention. One glance at Bill showed that he heard it as well. The sound was a low creak as if someone was taking their weight off of the floorboards right outside the barely opened door. 

Bill didn't waste time with questions like "Anyone there?", he went straight to the door and yanked it open. It was just in time to see someone scurrying around the corner down the hall. Without hesitation, Bill took after the figure. He was much faster than the eavesdropper and skirted around the corner with ease. Tucker could hear the struggle all the way in the room. 

Standing up himself, he grabbed a random shirt that was on the floor and yanked it on as he passed the creaky floorboards. 

"What the hell are  _ you  _ still doing here?" Tucker could hear Bill accusing the now caught spy.

"We have a two-hour delay, it's cool!" Another voice cracked.

"Two hour delay my ass!"

"It's true, I swear!"

"Where's dad?"

Tucker sighed to himself. Is this what Malcolm has to go through every day? Poor bastard.

Just as he was about to turn the corner himself, he had to take a step back to dodge the short body of Bill's younger brother as he was tossed like a ragdoll. 

"What's the verdict?" Tucker poked his head around the corner to see Bill about to throw what looked like a hammer at his brother.

"Bucky says there's a two-hour delay for absolutely no reason."

"I did not. I said there's a two-hour delay and they won't say why." Bucky defended himself.

"I don't care about the reason," Tucker chuckled. "I just want to know if we're late or not."

"Yes." Bill said.

"No!" Bucky argued. It was enough to earn him the honor of being the target for a hammer, which he barely ducked from. Bucky's yelp of fear quickly turned to an airy laugh as he pointed to where the hammer had bounced off the hardwood. "You put fucking a dent in the floor!"

"I'll put a dent in you if you don't get ready." Bill threatened, hurrying passed Tucker.

"Mom's going to absolutely kill you!" 

Tucker was the only one to hear Bucky's threat. Bill had already slammed his bedroom door shut. Tucker turned back to the kid who looked so much like his brother. They had the same brown hair and eyes, and even shared a beauty mark on their cheek, though Bill's dot was on his right and Bucky's was on his left.

"What are you looking at?" Bucky puffed out his chest. "What are you even doing here in the first place? I thought you went home."

"Spent my bus fare on weed." Tucker smiled but it quickly dropped. "Why is there a two-hour delay?"

"They won't say. From what I've heard, there's been some sort of chemical spill." He shrugged. 

"But isn't the chemical plant on the other side of town? How the hell would that affect us?"

Bucky gave another shrug and averted his eyes. He seemed nervous. "I've been texting my friend, and he says that it's because they needed to figure out if it was radioactive and stuff."

"Well, if it is, it is. Nothing much to do about it." Tucker tsked. There was no use getting upset about stuff that was out of their control, but Bucky seemed to take offense to his laid backness.

"You're only calm because you're too stupid to understand. If this shit is radioactive, then we could get poisoned, or maybe even mutate, and I know for a fact that you wouldn't want your pretty face developing a giant tumor filled with pus!"

"You read too many comic books." Tucker waved him off and walked back to Bill’s room.

"I'm serious!" The younger boy called after him. "A fucking zombie apocalypse could happen!"

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

Bucky stopped walking. "What?"

Tucker turned back to him innocently. "You're just looking for an excuse for me to bite you." He bared his teeth and winked.

He could still hear Bucky stuttering and fumbling for a good comeback, but Tucker wouldn't let him have it, opening the door to Bill's room and having to jump out of the way when a hammer came flying at him.

"Sorry," Bill apologized as Tucker closed the door. "Thought you were a little cockroach that stands on two feet and doesn't pay rent." 

"Why? Do I look cocky?"

"Shut the fuck up."

Tucker laughed at his own joke. Grabbing the one thing that he knew was his, Tucker dusted off the leather jacket with ease and slipped it on. It didn't matter if it was snowing or boiling, Tucker always wore that jacket. 

"Ah, shit," He heard Bill smack his own forehead. "Can you call your brother and ask him for a ride?"

Tucker gave an awkward frown. "That would involve talking to him, and I don't think Malcolm is going to be too happy about the fact that I didn't come home last night."

"That's not my problem, that's your problem, and if we can't get a ride then it turns into an  _ us  _ problem. Call him."

Tucker groaned but fished for his phone that should be in his jacket pockets. 

27 missed calls, 74 unread messages. All from Malcolm.

Not even one dial-up sound later and he answered.

"Where the hell have you been, Tucker?" Malcolm immediately asked.

"Don't get your panties in a twist, I was smoking meth instead of crack. Apparently, it's healthier."

"You told me that you were going to hang out at friends, and then you didn't come home or answer your phone. I almost called the cops!"

"No, you didn't." Tucker rolled his eyes.

"I said  _ almost _ ." Malcolm growled. "One of these days you're going to end up murdered in a ditch and I'm not going to be the one who calls the cops."

"Of course not. What murderer calls the police on his own crime?"

He could hear Malcolm sigh and mutter to himself. "Just tell me where you are."

"Gladly, we actually need a ride."

+++++++++

They didn't have to wait long. Tucker spotted the silver car from a mile away and watched as it pulled into the driveway. Everyone was out the door before Malcolm could even send a "here." text.

Bucky was the first to the car, opening the passenger side door and tossing his backpack to the seat behind. Tucker could see the disdain on Malcolm’s face from the carelessness.

“Are you even old enough to sit upfront?” Malcolm asked out of worry but only got a scowl in return.

“I’m fifteen, I’m old enough to drive.”

“Then why don’t you?” Bill asked, crawling into the back seats and almost tripping over the backpack that was thrown in there.

“Why don’t you?” Bucky quickly snapped back, buckling up.

Tucker tried to ignore the frown Bill suddenly adopted. He knew the reason why they didn’t drive. They barely had enough money to go through driving school, let alone get a car for each of them. Tucker’s family had their own share of financial limitations, but they could still afford to get Malcolm his first car. They could also afford to get Tucker his, but he was “A liability” apparently.

“We still have thirty minutes before the school is even opened.” Bucky announced from the front seat.

“Bull.” Bill said, looking out the window and studying the houses as they drove past.

“What do you mean?" Malcolm asked. "He's right. We had a two-hour delay."

Bucky turned around in his seat and looked at Bill with wide and unblinking eyes. Bill was grinding his teeth together and staring out the window with all his might.

After a minute of this, Bill finally looked away from the window. "You were right. I'm sorry. Happy now?"

His younger brother turned back around. "Immensely."

The school became visible soon after, the top of the building poking out between two others. It was right in the center of the city and would have been a pristine landmark if the private school wasn't right next to it.

Whichever genius decided that two schools that don’t share the same name should be built next to each other, and share a football field, needs to deepthroat a pufferfish. Especially when one of the schools is better off in every way.

Pulling up to the empty parking lot of Broad View High School, home of the Catfishes, they were allowed a clear view of Golden View, the private school for golden children and home of the Tigers. Of course, you’d have to sell your golden child if you even wanted to make a down payment for their tuition. The two-hour delay seemed to have affected Golden View as much as an atom bomb would affect a cockroach, which is what they looked like as they scampered around in stupid uniforms. If you ever feel as if you didn’t have much clothing choice in Golden View, you’re wrong. You either wear the standard blue and grey sweater and tie, or you can join the JROTC and get two other choices. Army greens or dress blues. Take your pick.

Broad View didn’t have a JROTC, so it didn’t take much to guess that the camo wearing teenagers that were marching around weren’t apart of their class roster. If that wasn’t proof enough, then the cadence they were shouting made it clear enough.

“Down by the river,” Another camo cladded student shouted, walking alongside the marching line.

“Down by the river,” The line repeated.

“We took a little walk,” The kid shouted once more, with the line repeating once again. “Ran into Broad View, had a little talk.” 

“We pushed them,”

“Hey!”

“We shoved them,”

“Hey!”

“We threw them in the river,”

“We threw them in the river!” The line shouted.

“And laughed as they drowned.”

Tucker and his friends could hear the cadence from inside the car, watching as the line marched near the edge of the parking lot, not taking a step into it, but teasing nonetheless. Their backs were straight and their steps were precise. Even though they looked forward and didn’t even acknowledge the car, it sure felt like they were sending a message loud and clear. They marched back over to their own parking lot but took a left towards the football field that served as almost a neutral ground for both schools. See if they were so confident with their cadence over there.

While Golden View had cars dropping off kids and some students already there partaking in activities with the doors wide open, Broad View was closed uptight. No one seemed to be keen on getting to school earlier than they had to, leaving the group sitting in the parking lot with nothing to do and a wait limit of thirty minutes.

Bucky was on his phone in the front seat, Malcolm was tapping the steering wheel with an annoyed look on his face, and Bill was still staring out the window. With a sigh, Tucker let his eyes wander the school across from them. Pristine and clean. Be a shame if it got dirty. Especially since everyone seemed busy at the front of the school, not really paying attention towards the back. Of course the boot boys walking around would be a challenge to sneak by…

“Do you think-” Tucker, Bill, and Bucky had started at the same time.

“We should,” Bill started again.

“Sneak in and,” Bucky continued it.

“Fuck shit up?” Tucker finished, a smile stretching at his lips as the other boys nodded in agreement.

“Are you three apart of some hive mind?” Malcolm asked with a frightened look on his face. “And what’s this talk about sneaking in?”

Tucker scoffed. “You’re a senior, right, Malcolm?”

“More like a senior citizen.” Bucky chuckled as he batted at the air freshener. Tucker ignored him.

“They couldn’t stop you if you went up to those boogers with legs and told them off for threatening behavior, right?”

“What are you getting at?”

Tucker leaned back in his seat. “Say you tell them off, make a big deal about wanting to speak to their fucking drill sergeant or whatever. You can probably get into the school by those means, slip past everyone towards the back and open the door to let us all in.”

“Why the hell would I do that?” Malcolm rubbed his temples, not even trying to play Tucker’s game.

“Why does there always have to be a reason with you?” He sighed, blowing a small lock of golden hair out of his eyes. Malcolm pushed his own smokey hair back. Even though they were brothers, they were the opposite of similar. Unlike Bill and Bucky where you could almost see them as twins if you squinted, Tucker and Malcolm looked as if they should barely know each other, let alone be brothers. Malcolm looked as if he belonged in a library while Tucker looked far more comfortable being in a greaser gang from the ’50s. Because of this, Tucker was certain that one of them was adopted. (All of his bets are on Malcolm)

“What do you even plan to do in there?” His brother asked with agitation. 

“Pure mindless vandalism,” Bucky answered for him.

“No, no, we’re just going to see if they could truly throw us in a river.” Tucker corrected him.

“You can get arrested for both of those,” Malcolm warned them, drumming his fingers along the wheel with more speed.

“We don’t need you to do it. We can do it by ourselves.” The younger boy in the seat next to him announced, unbuckling his seat belts and going to open the door before Malcolm grabbed him by the shoulder.

“Wait, let me think,” He said. Tucker sat up and leaned over to him.

“Would you rather us go in there unsupervised, or supervised?” Were the only words of comfort he gave.

“I’d rather you not go in there at all. Maybe I’ll tell a faculty member or your plan.”

“You wouldn’t do that to me,” Tucker patted his shoulder, unbuckling his own seat belt. “And besides, you know they won’t catch me.”


	2. Intruder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> /\ = Perspective change

“Left. Your left. Your left, right, your left your right.” The teen coordinated the line. “Your left, yo’ left. Left, right, your left.”

Malcolm rang his hands nervously as he approached the very intimidating group. There was a high chance that he was older than most of them, and maybe even the drill sergeant, but age didn’t matter when you looked tough as fuck, and the kid shouting cadences looked tough as fuck.

It took every ounce of willpower in Malcolm to not turn around and go back when the hard eyes of the sergeant found him. 

His loud voice quickly commanded the line to halt which they did with precision. Almost no step was out of order, and everything seemed synchronized. Malcolm almost wished Broad View had a JROTC program. It honestly seemed neat to him, but the sweaty and scowling face of the guide made him rethink.

“Fall out.” The guide instructed. The line took a step back, then scattered into random directions. Most of them taking breaks, and some of them heading over to where a group of dress blues seemed to be practicing twirling guns. All of them did their own thing, including the guide who went straight to Malcolm.

“Bit on the far side of the football field.” He said, almost as a warning. The football field was neutral grounds on all sides, but just because there’s a fence between you and a pit of snakes doesn’t mean they won't jump out if you get close enough.

“And is there a problem with that?” Malcolm challenged.

“Not at all. Any reason you decided to come over here, if I may ask?”

Malcolm swallowed. “I wish to speak to whoever is in charge of your,” He gestured to the group, not knowing what to call them. “Platoon.”

“I am.” The teen with close-cropped brown hair stepped forward and outstretched his hand. “Cadet Sergeant Major Flattpot, but you can call me George.”

With a weary look around, Malcolm took George’s hand with a firm shake. “Malcolm, and I was actually referring to your teacher in general.”

“Of course you were.” George gave a charming smile. He turned towards a group of dress blues. “Cadet Sillabub!” He called to them.

A small girl twirling a rifle jumped at the shout, almost dropping the gun. She quickly recovered and handed it over to another cadet in the dark blue uniform. Cadet Sillabub quickly jogged over to them. Her jacket was a bit too big on her, and she only had a small green rank badge. A wild shock of red hair was cut short, just above her collar. Bright green eyes were filled with almost fear as she stopped in front of them. She saluted to George who saluted back.

“Where’s your beret?” He asked.

“It’s in the classroom.” She said, out of breath, clearly expecting the question. 

“Well, go get it. We’re going to be drill soon enough. And while you’re at it, can you take…” He trailed off with a hum, looking back at the ashy haired teen. “Malcolm to the Captain?”

Cadet Sillabub nodded. “Okay.”

With a grin, George motioned Malcolm to follow her. “I hope you find everything alright.”

“Yes, I do too.” Malcolm had to stop himself from saluting or doing anything stupid like that. It was just hard not feeling insignificant to the kid with a commanding voice. But he pushed the feeling back and followed the young girl as she walked towards the school.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

“He’s in.”

Tucker laughed lightly. He hadn’t expected it to work out this well. While Malcolm had been busy talking to Boot-Boy, Tucker and his two friends had been sneaking at the very far end of the field right until it curved in on itself. Then, using the bleachers as cover, they successfully made it to what seemed like a private parking area for the teachers. Pristine cars and the smell of gas was only covered up by the even stronger smell of garbage coming from the dumpster parked right beside the door which probably led right into the school. If Malcolm can sneak away and find the door, they’d be in.

“So, what’s the plan?” Bucky asked, lifting the dumpster lid and grimacing.

“Easy,” Tucker started. “We get in, y'all wreak havoc, I do my thing, then we leave.”

“Do you seriously not have a plan? Or a reason? Anything?”

“Nope.”

Bucky let the lid drop. “This is a waste of time then. I thought we were gonna do something cool.”

“Like what?”

He paused, thinking intently. It was a moment before he shrugged. “I don’t know. Beat someone up? Knock over a few trash cans and smash a couple windows?”

“Then do that.” Tucker smiled. “Do whatever you like. I’ll be busy getting into the security office.”

Bill leaned against the brick wall. “Security office? Do they even have that?”

“Yep.” Tucker licked his lips and leaned forward, beckoning the other two to come closer as well. “I’m going to let you in on a little secret.” He whispered and cupped a hand around his mouth. “I fucked up.”

“Wow. No way.” Bill deadpanned. Tucker shushed him quickly, even though they were alone.

“Basically, I lent something important to the wrong person and they got caught with it. As far as I know, it’s sitting in the security office, and this may be my only chance to get it back.”

Bill shook his head, confused. “Did you plan this out?”

“Fuck no. I planned to just cut my losses and forget about it, but this is just too perfect of an opportunity to waste.”

“What did you even lose?” Bucky asked.

Tucker scoffed but looked around to make sure they were alone anyway. Certain that no one would hear, Tucker whispered. “A 1952 vintage baseball bat.”

While he had said the words with a hint of giddiness and excitement, his friends just looked confused.

“Are you fucking high?” Bill raised his brow. 

“No, just let me explain.” He held up his hands. “A week ago, I was digging around my attic because I was looking for an old game console that I used to have, but instead I found this bat. It was dusty as hell but that was good. Showed aging.”

“If you think you’re making sense, you are sorely mistaken.”

Tucker rolled his eyes in frustration. “Look, long story short, one of the kids that go here is a fucking god at the market. She said that the bat could go for as much as a thousand dollars!”

That seemed to catch their attention. “Woah, really?”

“Hell yeah. The plan was that I would give her the bat for her to sell, then we’d split the profits 80/20.”

“Shit. How much did you get for it?” Bucky crossed his arms to keep the cold from his fingers.

“Nothing.” Tucker with disappointment. “I passed it off to her a couple of days ago during school and she got caught with it. Apparently, it’s classified as a weapon.”

Tucker waved at his friends as their heads dropped, raising their hope. “But, if we do this right, I can get it back.”

“Can we get a cut?” Bill perked up.

“Of course. When the money comes in, we’ll split it. But to get the money, we need the bat.”

All of them nodded in agreement. Bill’s smile dropped though as he caught sight of something behind Tucker.

“Someone’s pulling up!” He told them, ducking towards the dumpster.

“Shit!” Bucky cried, following his brother with Tucker right behind him. A look back showed that a car was indeed pulling up. Its green paint was chipped and the driver was swerving without a thought. Too busy watching the incompetent driver, Tucker ran right into Bucky as he stopped dead in his tracks. Bill had squeezed into the small gap between the dumpster and the brick wall, but there was no room for the other two.

Bucky looked around wildly before settling on the only option.

“The dumpster!” He exclaimed, opening the lid and swinging his leg over. Tucker knew what he had to do, but that doesn’t mean his jacket had to as well. Quickly taking his jacket off, he tossed it into the gap where Bill was hiding. Not having enough to explain, he jumped into the dumpster as well, the lid shutting behind him.

“Holy fuck, it smells!” He croaked. It was as if someone had a large snack of rotten eggs and had vomited it back up. Plugging his nose was all Tucker could do for the smell, but breathing it through his mouth only made him taste it. The garbage underneath him left his feet uneven and his balance went out the window for a few moments until he straightened up. He could either use his other hand to cup his mouth and keep the taste out or hold onto the crusty wall for support. He took the wall and was glad that his hand didn’t slip on some unknown liquid. 

Even though they had been in the dumpster for less than fifteen seconds, it felt like hours. What the hell was taking the driver so long? Did he not even go this way? Was this all for fucking nothing?

Bucky’s curiosity had gotten the better of them, reaching out and opening the lid just a crack so they could see out. Tucker didn’t stop him. He was too busy trying not to throw up and make the smell worse.

The driver had indeed gotten out of his car and was leaning against it as if he was going to pass out. Even through the small crack, Tucker could see that the man was positively sick. His skin was pasty white and his eyes were crying puss. Why he even bothered to get out of bed this morning was a mystery.

The man pushed himself off of the car and stumbled over to the door. Fishing out a pair of keys, he paused to cough into the crook of his elbow. The fit was wet and gurgly, and after it was done, a long yellow string of phlegm still stuck to his lips as he lowered his arm. The crook of his elbow was now visibly damp, and Tucker had to physically stop himself from saying “What the fuck? Ew.”

The man grunted unintelligibly and shoved a key into the door handle. A few jingles later and he all but kicked the door open, and with more of a struggle, ripped the key out of the lock and slammed the door shut. 

“Someone’s having a bad day.” Bucky whispered right next to Tucker. With a long sigh of relief, he lifted the dumpster lid. A breath of cold fresh air was all Tucker truly cared about in that single moment, but the sick man was still fucking weird.

“Did you see that, Bill?” Bucky jogged to his brother’s hiding spot.

“See what?” He asked, crawling out. The leather jacket was still in his arms as he stood. Tucker took it from him and tried to describe the sick man they saw.

“You should have this dude. He was sick as fuck.”

“And not in the radical way,” Bucky cut in. “This dude looked like Michael Jackson with ebola.”

Bill’s jaw dropped. “Sounds fucking contagious. That’s gonna get people sick.”

“Good thing we have a football field between us and them.” Tucker scoffed, pulling his jacket back on. “Let’s hope Malcolm gets here before we catch anything.”

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

The school was bigger than it looked, especially on the inside. Cadet Sillabub was navigating the halls with ease, and Malcolm tried his best to keep up with her. She was quite short, and he almost lost her each time they cut through a crowd. The school was full of uniformed teens out and about. Malcolm stood out, and he knew it. They all knew that he wasn’t supposed to be there by his clothes alone. It was only a matter of time before someone stopped him and asked him what he was doing there, and that time had run out.

“Excuse me,” A woman’s voice called. It was better to assume that she was walking to someone else, and that’s exactly what Malcolm did. 

“Excuse me!” She called again. Maybe everyone had the same idea. There’s was just no telling who she was trying to get the attention of. 

A manicured hand grabbed him by the arm and he was forcibly turned to face a young girl. Her hair was tied into two tight rolls on top of her head, keeping it out of her face and allowing her deep brown eyes to express the many emotions behind them. The main one being annoyance and distrust at Malcolm.

“She’s talking to you.” Her velvety voice said. She gestured to the old blonde woman with thick glasses walking over to them.

“Young man,” She started. “Mind telling me what you’re doing here?”

Two-buns had an iron grip on Malcolm, giving him no room to escape. “I was just-”

“I’m sorry!” A small voice called. Cadet Sillabub pushed through and saluted to the teacher before quickly dropping her hand in embarrassment. “I was going to take him to see the Captain.”

“And who is he exactly?” The woman pressed.

“His name’s Michael,” Sillabub said incorrectly.

“Malcolm.” He corrected. She looked down with her cheeks flushing. 

“Sorry. His name’s Malcolm.”

The teacher shook her head, not taking it as an answer. “Why does he want to speak with the Captain? Is he from next door?”

Malcolm opened his mouth to answer when a commotion behind him caught his attention. Students were scurrying out of the way, making room for man coughing his lungs out. With a disgusting snort, he waved at them.

“Hello, Jelly.” He smiled. “I’m not feeling well.”

“Goodness gracious!” The teacher visibly tried not to cringe. Two-buns released Malcolm only to take a step back from the man, with Malcolm following suit as he started to hack once more.

“Captain sir,” Sillabub tried to get the man’s attention, but the teacher waved her away.

“Not now Jemima, he’s ill!” 

Jemima shrunk at that and turned to Malcolm. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think you’re going to be able to speak with him at the moment.”

Malcolm nodded, slipping away as everyone’s attention was on the Captain. “I’m okay with that.”

“I can show you the way out if-”

“No, no,” He stopped her, putting as much space in between them as he could. “Don’t worry about me, especially with him.”

Almost on cue, Captain gave a very clogged sniffle. It was a loud noise and sounded like an elephant almost. It was enough to catch Jemima’s full attention and give Malcolm the split second he needed to turn and run towards where the man came from.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

“Shit.” Bucky bounced from foot to the other. “I’m cold.”

That wasn’t surprising considering he was only wearing a dark blue sweatshirt.

“Want my jacket?” Tucker offered, grabbing the edges in preparation to take it off. Bucky shook his head.

“That’s gay, but thank you.”

Tucker squinted at him. “I’m trying to be nice.”

“Being nice is gay. What are you? Gay?” His teeth chattered with a small laugh. 

“Hey,” Bill stepped forward. “I’ll take that jacket.”

Tucker perked up at that and immediately took his jacket off. Instead of handing it to him straight off, he instead draped it around Bill’s shoulders with care, wrapping his arm around him and pulling him close as the bow on top of the gay looking present. Bill took it with stride, snuggling up and leaning his head on Tucker’s shoulders. Bucky merely stood there annoyed. 

“Jesus Christ, when’s the wedding?” He deadpanned. 

“Same day as your funeral. Then it’ll truly be the best day of my life.” Bill smiled.

“You’re so fucking gay.” 

“If cuddling with your homie makes you gay, then damn it, I don’t wanna be straight.” 

Bucky was probably about to call him gay again when the door started to jiggle. Without a word, all of them scrambled over to the dumpster. Bill took the back again as Tucker and Bucky jumped into the dumpster itself. The door opened just as the lid closed on them.

They could here whoever had open the door. Ragged breaths and the scraping of shoes was prominent as the stranger ran to the dumpster and picked up something that was leaning against the metal wall. The sound of them running back and the door becoming jammed was all Tucker could hear in the enclosed space. Silence followed. In the slight darkness, Tucker could make out Bucky with his hand over his mouth. Whether it was to keep the smell out of the noises in, he didn’t know. They didn’t dare try and open the lid to see who was out there. It just wasn’t worth the risk.

Tucker’s phone must have not gotten the memo though. Trippie Redd suddenly filled the quiet space and echoed off of the walls, sending loud reverb right back at them. In a frenzy, Tucker quickly took his phone out of his jean pocket and swiped the incoming call from Malcolm away, but the damage had already been done.

“Tucker?” A voice outside the dumpster asked. He recognized that voice immediately and flipped the lid open, finding his brother standing right next to the door with his own phone to his ear. Malcolm didn’t seem to happy at the fact that he was hiding in a dumpster but smiled anyway.

“I see you’ve found your place in the world.” Malcolm bowed.

“Shut the fuck up.” Tucker grunted, his foot slipping on the edge and sending him tumbling onto the concrete below. He heard no attempts at help, only laughs. Groaning, he stood up on his own. “What took you so long?”

“I almost got caught.” Malcolm crossed his arms and cleared his throat, trying to seem as if he hadn’t been laughing at his brother’s pain. “I only got away because some a sick man drove everyone away.”

“Was he tall? Kind of fat, and bald?” Bill asked, whacking Tucker with his coat as he would with a towel. 

“Yeah,” Malcolm confirmed, watching Tucker turn around shove into Bill in retaliation. “How do you know?”

“We saw him come in,” Bucky explained as the two other boys fought. “Had to hide in the dumpster so he didn’t see us, but he was so disheveled that I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t have noticed us if we were right in the open.”

The fight concluded with a bang as Bill tripped over his own feet and fell against the dumpster wall. 

“Shit, sorry!” Tucker hissed, quickly helping his laughing friend back on his feet. Pulling his jacket back on, Tucker sighed. “We doing this?”

“Hell yeah.” Bill gave a reassuring handshake.

“Do what?” Malcolm questioned, only for Bucky to grab his shoulder awkwardly because of the height difference.

“Don’t worry about it. Just stick with me and Bill, and you’ll do fine.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Just stick with them dude,” Tucker laughed, opening the door that had been propped open by an empty box. “Don’t worry about it.”

"How can I  _ not _ worry?"

"By going with the flow. Easy as pie." He held the door open for Bucky to push Malcolm into the building.

"The first and last time you made a pie it collapsed on itself."

Tucker made a face before recovering. "But it was still delicious."

The door opened up to a long and narrow hallway. It smelled like french toast, and a door in the hallway with a window showed that that was exactly what they were cooking. Three doors. One behind them, one in front of them, and one to the side. The side door went into a kitchen area it seemed. Lots of people in aprons and hairnets were out and about, trying to get the breakfast out. They were so busy that they didn't even notice the group slip past. They weren't interested in the side door to the kitchen, they were interested in the door at the end of the hallway that led into the main part of the school.

Before they moved past the door without a thought, Tucker tapped the shoulders of the boys in front of him, having them turn around and face him. Bill was right behind him and had to stop before he ran into him.

"Here's the plan," Tucker whispered. "Security office is on the north side of the school. Make sure the guards are too busy in the south."

"What do you mean by that?" Malcolm had a panicked look to him. "I didn't sign up for this."

"Should have picked a different brother." Tucker patted his on the shoulder and sent him away with Bucky. He turned back and looked at Bill.

"Go with them. I know what I'm doing."

Bill nodded and slipped past him, catching up to the other two.

On a count of three, Tucker slipped out as well. Just in time to see the group round a corner. The plan that was running through his head involved grabbing the bat and jumping through the nearest window. He'd sell it before they even noticed it was gone. Of course, the cameras were a problem, but the monitors were in the security office. No one can man the cameras if there was no one in the office. Tucker could only hope that they weren't stupid enough to pull the fire alarm or something like that. Just their presence alone should be enough to draw the attention of security. 

They had at least three guards over at their own school, so going off of that there's probably three guards in this school. At least, he hoped so. It would be ideal to have one guard, and maybe there is only one on shift at the moment. This was all mindless speculation that would not benefit Tucker in the slightest. All he could do was be prepared for the unexpected.

The hallways were empty since most of the kids going to Golden View preferred to study in their homerooms over wandering the halls. If they wanted to do something scandalous they'd do it in the bathroom. No cameras and tall stalls were ideal to get their Juul on. If things were to go arise, Tucker would duck into the nearest bathroom and hope no one sees him. 

Being alert with his senses on haywire, Tucker heard before he saw what was probably a couple of students about to turn into the hall. It was narrow and with no real place to hide except one of the probably occupied classrooms. Searching his mind for a solution, he remembered a post he once saw that said 'If you look like you belong, you will' or something like that. Not giving it a second thought lest he second guess himself, Tucker spun himself right to a water fountain, dipping his head and taking a long swig as the footsteps approached. What kind of intruder drank from the water fountain?

Of course, the footsteps stopped right behind him. Acting as if they had just caught his attention, Tucker stopped drinking and straightened up. He turned to find two uniformed teens. One girl and one boy, both short. It felt as if Tucker just stepped into the twilight zone because they looked so much alike yet so different. The boy was dark-skinned and so well groomed he almost sparkled, while the girl had paler skin than the sick man, with faint blue eyes and bright white hair. She had to be albino. They stood in the same manner, and their eyes shifted with the same curiosity. They knew he didn't belong there, they just didn't know what to do about. Tucker knew the best way to stop their prying eyes right in their tracks. All he had to do was make them blush.

The boy cleared his throat. "Are you a student here?"

"Do I look like one?" Tucker had to stop himself from leaning against the wet fountain. It was obvious that he didn't look like one. Not only did he not have the uniform, but he also didn't carry himself with that Golden View pride. 

"Well, if you're not, then you shouldn't be here." The boy puffed out his chest. He was trying too hard to look intimidating to the rugged outsider who only found his act cute.

Tucker wiped his still wet and with as much swagger that he could muster, he pushed himself off the fountain and rolled his jacket sleeves up, looking the twins up and down. 

"Are you two the hall monitors or something?"

They looked at him with confusion. "No," The girl started. "We were just walking."

"So was I. I was just looking for a drink." He held up his hands in mock surrender. "But don't worry your pretty little heads. I'm on my way out."

The boy glared at him, not having any of it, while the girl seemed passive. 

"What's your name?" She asked. 

"I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours."

"We don't have to tell you anything." The boy stepped up. 

"Neither do I." Tucker shot back quickly. "There's no reason to get hostile," He pointed down the hall towards where he was going. "I'm getting out of here, no sweat."

"There's no exit down there, only a security office." The boy pointed out. A smile came to Tucker that masked the nervous state that threatened to take over.

"Then maybe a guard can escort me out. Secret service style."

"Maybe they shall." The boy stood his ground, waiting for Tugger to make the first move. The teen was just waiting for him to start running down the hall or maybe for him to even start a fight. Tucker didn't blame him for being wary. A lot of tragedies happened because people weren't paying attention to who was walking in and out of their schools. With one step to the left, Tucker made his way towards the security office. Just as he expected, the twins followed him.

From the window in the door, Tugger could see that the light was on, but blinds covered any other preview of the inside. Trying the knob proved it to be locked, and knocking was met with no answer. 

"He must be out." Tucker shrugged, leaning against the door as the twins stood by cautiously. 

The door Tucker was leaning on opened, taking any support behind him away and sending him stumbling backward. Luckily for him, he was caught by the large woman in uniform.

"Oh dear!" Was not something Tucker expected to hear out of the security guard's mouth. "I forgot I had my door locked."

"Mrs. Dots," The boy started, not waiting for Tucker to open his mouth. "We found him wandering the halls. He's not in uniform and he says that he doesn't go to this school."

Tucker didn't appreciate being talked about as if he was a stray on the street.

"How strange." Mrs. Dots hummed.

"I was actually on my way out when they stopped me." Tucker got back on his own two feet. 

"I would have gladly shown you the door, but you insisted on going where there wasn't an exit." The boy shrugged.

"When did you find him, Quinn?"

"Just now."

As they talked, Tucker swept his eyes around at the office, looking for the baseball bat. There was nothing. Absolutely nothing. Nothing big enough that could be holding the bat, nothing that could be hiding the bat, and nothing that could hint to the fact that a bat was in the room.

Probably because it wasn't. 

Tucker cursed under his breath, catching the attention of the guard.

"What was that?"

"Absolutely nothing." He grumbled, already taking his leave.

"Hey!" The boy called to him, reaching out. Tucker avoided his grasp easily and started a slow jog. 

He felt the boy's hand try and grab him again and turned out of his reach. 

"Where do you think you're going?"

"Away. I'm out." Tucker held up a peace sign and looked for the nearest exit sign. Once again, the boy had a hold on him.

"Damn," Tucker stopped walking. "You really like touching me."

The boy shook his head, ignoring the comment. "You can't just leave?"

"Why not? You told me too." The boy was about to say something when Tucker got in his face. "What? Do you want me to stay?" He asked with a shaky breath.

The boy shoved him away and Tucker gladly took the momentum, giving the boy his best shit-eating grin. 

Rounding the corner, Tucker didn't waste time and broke into a dead sprint. If they were following him, he didn’t know. He didn’t know what the others were doing either. Checking his phone as he ran, he read the time. They only had ten minutes to get out of there, and Tucker still didn’t have the bat. Just as he went to put his phone away, it vibrated and displayed a message from Malcolm. Turning the next hallway, Tucker caught sight of the men’s bathroom and made a beeline for it.

It was a dark blue space with black stalls. As far as he could tell, no one was occupying any of them. Checkin one and finding it empty, Tucker closed the stall door behind him and hopped onto the toilet seat, sitting as best as he could on the metal pipe that connected the toilet to the wall. The position allowed him to rest his feet on the seat and keep out of sight from the door gap. 

Finally, without the threat of being caught, Tucker turned his phone on and tapped the message from Malcolm.

**Malcolm**

**We got caught :(**

Fuck.

Typing furiously, Tucker sighed.

**Me**

**What happened?**

Tucker took one of his hands off of his phone to rub his eyes. Today fucking sucked, and there was plenty of time for it to get worse. Please don’t let it get worse.

**Malcolm**

**As soon as we stepped into a hallway a teacher stopped us. In the main office rn**

Looks like Tucker was doing better than them at least. Licking his lips, he went to type a response.

A low groan came from the stall next to him.

Shit, he wasn’t alone. If the groan wasn’t proof enough, the hand reaching through the bottom of the stall was.

“Dude, what the fuck?” Tucker tried to keep calm. The person on the other side didn’t answer, only slapping their hand against the wall. Thinking fast, Tucker unhooked the toilet paper and gave it to the outstretched hand because what else could he want?

The hand was satisfied with the gift, pulling it back under the stall. These private school kids are fucking  _ weird. _ With a last few taps, Tucker sent his message.

**Me**

**Don’t snitch**

**Malcolm**

**Fuck u**

**Me**

**DONT FUCKING SNITCH**

Tucker huffed in annoyance. Just because they got caught doesn’t mean he should go down with them. It wasn’t his fault that they couldn’t be sneaky. A rustling sound made him blink. Leaning forward and hearing the toilet creek threw him off, but after his ears adjusted, he could hear it clearly. A wet chewing sound and the sound of toilet paper ripping. Taking a gamble, Tucker stepped off of the seat and his sneakers squeaked against the tile floor. Slowly kneeling, he got the full picture of what was going on in the next stall inch by inch.

The kid was fat and slumped over as if he was passed out. His eyes were open and staring into the ceiling so hard that they seemed to be rolling into the back of his head. While his body and eyes were limp and unresponsive, his hands and jaw were working diligently. His fingers were holding the toilet paper tightly, his nails digging into the soft tissue and shredding it. In a robotic motion, his jaw knawed at the roll, but not by the string of squares like spaghetti, but digging into it like a burrito. Whether that makes it worse or not is pretty irrelevant since this kid was eating fucking toilet paper.

Tucker could tell that his face was contorted in disgust, and he stood back up, looking at the walls around him, not knowing what to do. 

The door to the bathroom swung open and Tucker almost slipped on the toilet seat he jumped onto it so fast. Whoever just entered didn’t seem to notice the slip since they were talking with friends. At least three other people just entered the bathroom, if Tucker was lucky, they’d focus on the mouth breather having a feast on Charmin Ultra Soft.

But they didn’t focus on anything. They just talked.

“Did you check your snap? Three kids just got taken to the main office.” One voice said, the distinctive snap crackle pop of a Juul following his words.

“Who?” Another asked. Tucker could see the white cloud of smoke blow into the air above the stall. Who the fuck Juuls grape?

“Don’t know. Apparently, they’re from next door.”

“Love thy neighbor, holy fuck.” One laughed. “How’d they even get in?”

“Only one security guard showed up today, and apparently one of the people who got in is still on the loose.”

They talked like Tucker was a wild dog without a leash, and he had to bite his tongue from saying something back in retaliation.

“Mrs. Dots is the only one who showed up today, the rest of the guards have the flu apparently.”

“Bull shit, it’s radiation. I saw it first hand from the Captain.”

“Why the fuck did he even come in today? He’s going to get everyone else sick and I am  _ not  _ missing my final.”

“I fucking know right? I’m barely passing chemistry and the last thing I need is the flu.”

“Radiation poisoning!” 

“They’d be dead if they had poisoning.”

“Maybe they are. Maybe they’ve come back to life.”

“What, like a zombie?”

“Yeah.”

A pause, then two of the boys erupted into laughter.

“This ain’t the walking dead!” One coughed, most likely on Juul smoke.

“I never said it was.” The one said meekly. “But it’s a possibility-”

“Bruh, I’m failing biology and even I know that’s fucking stupid!”

One of the boys was so worked up over the prospect, that he started to hit the stall doors.

“Dude, you got the wildest imagination!”

A few more slaps down the stalls and they hit the door with the toilet paper eater, who gave a cry at the sudden bang.

“Oh shit, is someone in here?” One asked as the other started laughing harder.

Toilet paper eater started whining almost. All Tucker could hear from his small stall was the sound of skin slapping the tile and the other boys jumping back.

“You made him fucking mad, dude!”

The sound of the stall shaking on its hinges violently was terrifying to Tucker, but funny to the Juulers.

“Watch out! It’s a zombie!” One of them joked, screaming.

“Don’t stick your foot in there you dumbass!” 

“Uh oh, he’s gonna get me!” One of them exaggerated his words. The stall door seemed to shake all of the walls around Tucker, and then all he heard was laughter.

“Watch, the boomers are gonna say kids are going crazy because of Juuls.” The group laughed.

“Fatty couldn’t fit through the bottom crack!”

While they joked and laughed, they didn’t hear the boy in the stall stand up. But Tucker did. He also heard the boy’s hands fumbling with the lock before it quickly slid open with a definitive click.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter 2 is here 😩 this took way longer than i thought it would, but hey, it's out now 😂  
> I don't know if i'll be able to keep up my racehorse ways with finals on the horizon, but we'll see. I can promise you that there is not a day that goes by without me writing a few words for this story. I finished the outline and now all I need to do is finish the story, so stick around for that 😘


	3. That's when it happened

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my eyes are dry.  
> \+ = timeskip

All he could hear was heavy breathing and crying. It was a horrible sound, only expressing fear. Fear for his life. The sobs were his own. Every few heaves forced him to draw in breath as he sputtered and coughed. He knew he shouldn't be crying. Toilet paper eater could come back at any time and hear him.

He held his knees to his chest tightly, not even touching the seat. It was such an uncomfortable position but he was scared of being seen. Toilet paper eater had left a few minutes ago, and he didn't know what was happening outside. He didn't even know what the hell happened in the bathroom since he hadn't even opened the stall door yet. Everything could be just a big joke. A fucking prank to teach him a lesson about trespassing or something. He could open the door right now and be surrounded by people yelling "Surprise!" And then they'd laugh and talk about how big of a baby he was, crying alone in a bathroom stall fearing for his life that wasn't even in danger.

But that wasn't true. He knew it wasn't. 

His memories from the last few minutes seemed to be scattered already. All he remembered was the sound of Toilet paper eater unlocking the only thing between him and the Juulers. The stall walls shook as one of the Juulers was smashed into them, and then the sound of a sink breaking and glass shattering were the only clues given to Tucker as to what the hell happened.

The worst part was the screams. The boy had screamed as he was thrown around, but they only lasted a moment. After the glass shattered, he seemed to lose the motor functions to yell, and only gurgled for the duration of his life. 

At least one of his friends stayed while the other ran out. His friend put up more of a fight, but Tucker was sure that he was dead as well. Toilet paper eater had the dude pinned against Tucker's stall door, and the boy had screamed his lungs out just like his friend. After a few moments, it all stopped. 

Tucker had his hands cupped over his mouth, not daring to even breathe. It was completely silent for what seemed like a lifetime, and he couldn't help but wonder where the kid that ran out went. Did he go to get help? Would help even come in time to save him?

Just as he had worked up the courage to step down from the toilet, the chewing began. It sounded like an awkward thanksgiving dinner, with everyone more interested in swallowing the dry turkey instead of the conversation. It was wet, and the sound of flesh tearing away was what really stuck in Tucker's mind.

Then the crunching began. 

It sounded like carrots, and Tucker had convinced himself it was.

And then it all stopped. Toilet paper eater had risen, his own shoes clicking on the tile floors. The door to the bathroom had opened, and then it closed, signaling Toilet paper eater's leave.

It started as a few loud test breaths. Filling the silence with a noise that could only mean life. The breaths started hitching, and his cheeks started to get wet. Tucker wasn't a crier, but he had never felt this terrified in his life either. 

What really set him off was the fact that nobody ever came. Not even Toilet paper eater.

Did the kid who ran out not tell anyone? Did something happen to him? It just doesn't make sense. The security office is only two halls down. How the hell did they not hear anything? 

How can this happen? What the hell just happened?

Tucker sighed deeply, trying to compose himself. With a deep and audible swallow, he stepped down from the toilet. 

His foot immediately slipped, and he almost dropped his phone, and that was when it hit him.

He had been clutching his phone the entire time and he didn't even think to use it. He didn't even try to call or text anyone. Forget about the kid that ran out, what about Tucker? This could have been stopped if he had just texted Malcolm.

Shit, this entire thing could have been avoided if he had just forgotten about the bat and moved on with his day.

No, that's stupid to think that this wouldn't have happened if he wasn't there. It would have happened whether or not he was hiding in the stall or out in the open. 

But it wouldn't have been as bad if he had just fucking called someone.

With shaking fingers, he turned his phone on texted Malcolm. He couldn't call the police. He wouldn't dare make a sound with Toilet paper eater out there. 

**Me:** **Malcolm, call the cops and get everyone out of here.**

It was a moment before a bubble of text answered.

**Malcolm** **: wtf?**

**Me:** **Idk, some crazy shit happened in the bathroom. A fucking maniac is on the loose.**

**Malcolm:** **Where are you?**

**Me:** **Im in the bathroom. Just get someone here, please.**

With a sniffle, Tucker tapped what could probably be his last words to his brother.

**Me:** **Just know that i love you.**

Wiping his eyes, he saw that Malcolm replied with something along the lines of "You're scaring me." But Tucker wouldn't read it. He had to get out of there. He had to warn others before Toilet paper eater got too far.

With legs feeling numb, he placed his foot down with less force. The floor underneath his shoe was slick, and he didn't want to look down.

He looked down and saw red spilling into his stall, one of the boys pressed against the door. Setting his other foot down, he focused not on the body but on his breathing. His heart was sore and his stomach was sick. He was sick. He was bent over now over the toilet he just hid on top of, vomiting his guts out. It was his dinner because he hadn't eaten breakfast, and when he was done, the disgusting feeling of emptiness was all that was left.

The tears started to come again, but they were interrupted by the door opening. Tucker quickly covered his mouth with his hand. Toilet paper eater was back. He didn't have time to lift his feet off the ground without making noise. All he could do was hope that Toilet paper eater didn't check under the stalls.

Instead of a grunt or whine from Toilet paper eater, there was a gasp from someone new.

Tucker could hear whoever had come in there start to hyperventilate just as he did a few seconds ago. Malcolm did it. He got Tucker help. Just as he reached for the stall door lock, the bathroom door opened once again, and the familiar grunt made his blood run cold. 

The new person had a scream at the back of their throat, and Tucker didn't waste any time. With all of his strength, he pushed the door open, shoving the body of the Juuler out of the way. He came face to face with the boy who had stopped him in the hallway. The boy whipped his head at Tucker before Tucker whipped his own head to the entrance of the bathroom. Toilet paper eater was standing there. Blood coated his lips and teeth, and the flesh on his arm was shredded. For a split second, it was a standoff.

Toilet paper eater made the first move, lunging for the boy. Tucker made the second move, throwing his body against Toilet paper eater and smashing both of their bodies into the mess of shards. He wasn't going to freeze this time. He wasn't going to clutch his phone and hide. Not again.

Broken porcelain from the sinks and glass from the mirrors punctured into the boy, shredding his arm even more and a few more of his limbs sliced open. Tucker had his hands around his throat. He had to plant his feet to stop Toilet paper eater from flipping them over, in turn pinning Tucker onto the bed of shards. 

Gripping his fat neck, Tucker lifted his head and smashed it down with as much force as he could muster. Toilet paper eater wouldn't hesitate to kill Tucker, so he gave him the same treatment. A few more times he smacked the murder's head against the tiles. A sickening crack signaled that Tucker had split his head open. Even with his body splintered with glass and his head wide open, Toilet paper eater still found the impossible strength to grab Tucker by the throat and slam him to the side. His abdomen made contact with a large portion of porcelain. He could almost feel the bruises forming from the hard-hit. Glass bit into his thighs and the pain in his ribs was amplified when Toilet paper eater straddled him. Picking up the piece of porcelain, Toilet paper eater lifted it above his head.

Just before his arms swung down to kill Tucker, a large shard of glass was buried into his neck. He cried out, dropping the porcelain behind him. Before his bloody fingers could grab at the shard, it was pulled out, a spray of blood coming with it. Not even having time to process the hole in his neck, the shard of glass punctured the side of his head, going as deep as it could before it shattered in the hand of the dark-skinned boy. Toilet paper eater stilled, then fell to the side, sliding off of Tucker.

Once again, the only sound that filled Tucker's ears was breathing, a noise that could only mean life.

Of course, the three bodies on the ground would never breathe again. 

A few moments later Mrs. Dots arrived followed by three other teachers. Tucker was still laying down, clutching his abdomen and terrified to move. He feared that he would get cut if he tried to get up without help, and he wasn't about to ask the boy with a thousand-yard stare for help. He had already saved Tucker's life by taking another, and that's some deep shit.

In the end, it was Mrs. Dots who helped Tucker up and out of that godforsaken bathroom.

+++++

The reason Mrs. Dots hadn't heard the original struggle with Toilet paper eater was because she was all the way down at the main office keeping an eye on the three intruders. That was proof to Tucker that if he hadn't started this whole thing no one would be dead.

If she wasn't down in the office watching the friends he sent then she would have heard the violence and stopped it before it got too serious. But she couldn't, and now three kids were dead, two of them having been chewed on.

When Malcolm, Bill, and Bucky had first been brought to the office, their principal had been called. When Tucker had been brought to the office covered in blood half of which wasn't his, the cops were called. He couldn't hear the call in perfect detail since there was a door between him and the teacher making it, but he could tell that something was wrong. The teacher kept dialing for the police yet she only ever groaned and tried again. They weren't picking up it seemed.

A woman tapped him on the shoulder and motioned for him to follow her. He sat up from the office chair they had placed him at and followed her into the nurse's office. The boy who had saved Tucker's life was already in there sitting on one of the two beds available and clutching his bandaged hand. He stood to when they entered. He looked like he was about to say something before he shook his head and sat back down. The nurse didn't notice, only pulling Tucker towards the first aid kit on the wall and telling him to strip. 

He didn't hesitate. Pulling his shirt over his head looking down at his purple body. His pants went next with some effort. They were soaked with blood and glass was still sticking out of the seams. Pulling them off only dragged the glass against his skin, but he got through it. His legs were runny with blood as well. So much blood for only a few sticks in the skin. The nurse pulled a chair out and got to work.

Tucker looked away before she started pulling the glass out. It was better to not see it, kind of like a flu shot. Looking away meant you wouldn’t stop it because you can’t stop what you can’t see. Turning away, he found the other boy staring. Being caught made his eyes widen and he shifted them away, acting as if he hadn't been taking in the many injuries that riddled Tucker's body.

Tucker didn't have time to react to it though, because that's when the shards started to get pulled out.

By the time it was done, the bell had rung, signaling for students to head to class. Tucker was sure that they wouldn't continue the day normally. Not with one of the bathrooms being a crime scene.

Now he sat on the other bed vertical to the one being taken up by the boy he still didn't know the name of. His legs were bandaged like mummy's and he was holding an ice pack to his ribs.

"There was another." He said, wheezing at the end of his sentence from pain. 

The boy hummed questioningly.

"There was another kid in the bathroom when it happened." Tucker grunted, slowly laying down on the paper-covered bed.

"Who was it?" 

"I didn't see him. But I heard him. I heard it all."

Tucker stared into the popcorn ceiling. If he let his eyes unfocus, he could see faces in the bumps. One looked like an elephant clown, another looked like Shrek. Staring at them for too long made his head spin, forcing him to close his eyes. When he did, he felt a tear slip down his cheeks, and the inside of his nose started to burn. 

He sniffled quickly, wiping the tear away. Crying when the attack happened and crying right now were two different things. During the attack, he was alone and going through something that was traumatic. Right now he was fine. He was fine. He was fine.

Repeating it in his head didn't make him believe it any more than he did. He wasn't fine, but at least he was alive.

Mrs. Dots stepped into the room looking shaken. Behind her was the albino girl who immediately ran to the boy.

"Quinn!" She gasped, wrapping him into a hug. "You're alright."

"I am, don't worry." He assured her. 

Mrs. Dots stepped in front of Tucker with a less than warm greeting. 

"Tucker Russo?"

"Yeah."

"Mind telling me what happened, if you're ready?"

Her voice was softer than he would imagine in these conditions. She was worried about him but had to keep a straight face. She couldn't go melting over him like a mother, not until she got the whole story.

"We snuck in the backdoor. Me and my friends." He started. "They went into the hallways while I went to the security office."

"I remember that. Why would you go there?" She asked, sitting at the edge of the bed.

"I was looking for a baseball bat. It belongs to me but another student here had it. They got it confiscated and I thought I could get it back if I…"

No. He never thought he'd get it back. He was just bored and looking for trouble.

"You saw me leave," He continued. "I hid in the bathroom because I got a text message from my brother. I didn't want to stop in the hallways to read it." His phone was somewhere in the bathroom probably. It wasn't in his pocket so it obviously fell out. "I hid in a stall, and Toi-" He stopped himself. "This kid, he reached under the stall. Didn't say anything. I thought he wanted toilet paper, so I gave it to him." Should he tell them about how he started to eat it? Would they believe him if he did?

Deciding to skip that detail, Tucker swallowed. "That's when three guys came in."

Tucker’s mouth began to move on its own. Words were coming out but he wasn’t processing them like he normally would. He just let them slip out, and soon enough, he was done. He had recounted what happened without truly going back. Mrs. Dots seem perplexed by his story, and even the siblings were on the edge of the bed, hanging off of every detail.

“I know who the third boy is.” She said after some time had passed. “The boys that were found in the bathroom, they were always together along with someone else. I’ll have to speak with him.”

“What’s gonna happen to me?” Tucker croaked.

Mrs. Dots looked at him with pity. “I’m afraid I don’t know at this time, dear.” 

Tucker tilted his head back and looked up to the ceiling again. “Can I see my brother? Malcolm’s his name.”

“Of course, dear” 

She lightly closed the door as she left them. Only the nurse and the siblings were in the room with Tucker, and yet it felt like he was on his own planet. All by himself. Not a single soul around him. 

“Tucker?” That all too familiar worried voice asked.

“Hey, Malcolm.”

His brother kneeled down to his level, upset already. “Jesus Christ, what happened?”

“Read it in the police report. Where’s Bill and Bucky?”

Malcolm paused, shocked at how Tucker changed the subject. “They’re in the counselor’s office. That’s where they’re holding us. Oh god, I’ve been worried sick!” He started to choke up. “You send me this cryptic message and then you waltz in here covered in blood! They wouldn’t even let me go to you, and I thought you were in trouble. Really bad trouble.”

“I’m fine.” Tucker grabbed his brother’s hand and held it to his heart. “I’m not in  _ bad  _ trouble, just trouble for trespassing.” His smile fell. “I’m sorry for getting you into this.”

“I forgive you,” Malcolm said. “Just don’t scare me like that again!”

Tucker grinned. “I promise.”

A blonde woman with thick glasses opened the door. “Come now. We’re having an evacuation.”

“What?” Quinn asked. Tucker was happy to have a name to his face.

“We can’t have everyone getting worried and walking in on something they don’t need to see. They haven’t even gone to class, the whole school is on lockdown.”

“What about Broad View?” Malcolm asked.

“They’re lining up outside as well. Apparently what happened here is something others are experiencing.”

That’s not good.

“Will we,” Malcolm gestured to himself and Tucker. “Be going over to our own school?”

She shook her head no. “I wish you could, especially after what he’s been through. But we have to keep you in our custody until authorities arrive.”

“When will that be?”

The teacher made a face that wasn’t comforting to Tucker. “I’m not sure.”

Fuck this day.

+++++

It happened without warning. It started with hope and ended in disaster. It left many dead and many fearing for their lives. It only took a few seconds, and it only perfected itself during the coming minutes. Its origin is debatable, but those were for legends. It was no fairytale. 

It happened outside.

It started with a siren.

The cloudy sky was reflective of the dreary mood everyone was in. The JROTC kids had disbanded, heading to their respected lines. During drills, they always lined up with their fourth-period teacher, and that is what they did now. Ms. Lorum, Tucker learned, was the blonde-haired teacher. She was scouting the lines, looking for the third boy that was in the bathroom. Tucker was next to his friends thankfully. Bucky and Bill were confused but didn’t push him. Quinn and his sister were nearby as well. Mrs. Dots wanted everyone who was involved near her, ready for questioning from the police if they ever got there.

Judging by the sirens blaring throughout the streets, the police had their hands full. A group of mix-matched JROTC kids were lined up with the Captain who looked about half a step in the grave. Most of the teachers next door looked exactly the same, some of the students as well. Their sickly sweaty skin reminded Tucker of Toilet paper eater. Should he say something about that? What would happen if he did?

So caught up in his thoughts and the similarities, he didn’t notice Quinn walking up to him until he felt a tap on his shoulder. Quinn quickly avoided his gaze when he looked at him though. 

“Can I talk to you?” He asked.

Tucker nodded, turning his whole body to Quinn’s. He hitched his thumb behind him over to a small patch of grass not too far away.

“Can we do it in private?”

Tucker nodded once more and limped towards the spot he pointed to. Quinn kicked at the grass with his school shoes, rubbing his neck with a fidgety hand. It was awkward.

“I just wanted to…” His nose twitched. “I just wanted to say thank you for stepping in when Carl lunged at me. I’m not sure if I’d be alive if you didn’t do that.”

“Carl?” Tucker questioned.

“The boy who attacked us.” Quinn looked down sullenly. “I always thought he was nice. He wanted to write comic books. I never thought he’d do something like this.”

Toilet paper eater had a name. So did the two other boys.

“Can I say thank you too?” Tucker asked. “If you hadn’t-”

He was about to say ‘Stab Toilet paper eater,’ but he rephrased it. “If you hadn’t stopped Carl as fast as you did, I would probably be dead as well.”

“Then we’re even then.” Quinn nodded, looking back at the lines of kids.

“Hey,” Tucker got his attention again and held out his hand. “We didn’t really get off on the right foot. I’m Tucker.”

The boy turned his nose up at his hand but took it anyway. “Quinton Mistoffelees.” 

That’s when a siren got closer than ever before.

Everyone was relieved to see a cop car turn onto the road. Now the mess would be sorted out and everything would go back to normal.

Quinn’s sister made her way over to the two. She had an umbrella open even though the sun was blocked. 

“Looks like they’re here.” She said softly, standing next to her brother and allowing him to use the shade as well. Even if Tucker was next to her as well, her arms would be too short to comfortably allow him under the umbrella as well. 

Tucker watched the cop car that was a halfway past Broad View and showing no signs of stopping. As soon as the tip of the car aligned with the Broad View side of the football field between them, Tucker suddenly understood.

The cop car had its lights flashing and its siren blaring. Tucker took a step to the left stepping onto the sidewalk, now having the grass patch between him and the rest of Golden View. He was so close to the road. Suddenly more aware of his surroundings, Tucker saw how mall right across the road was much close than either schools with massive parking lots. 

Quinn noticed him acting strangely, and gave him a questioning look. His sister was still focused on the cop car roaring nearer. 

Tucker knew the car wouldn’t stop. If he stepped onto the road he would be flattened. The car wouldn’t stop because it wasn’t going anywhere.

It was driving away from something.

With only his eyes, Tucker followed the car as it passed right by in a blur. The siren got fainter, and fainter before it blended into the many other sirens around the city. What came next was the feeling close to an earthquake. Just a small vibration that Tucker could feel on the bottom of his soles. Raising his head and looking back to where the cop car had come from, Tucker saw her.

She was dressed fancy, but both heels on her shoes were broken. She was jogging despite this. There she was. Her pasty body jogging alone in the middle of the road. That’s when Tucker saw him.

He looked like any truck driver you’d find in a diner. His flannel was unbuttoned and his hairy chest was exposed to the world as he ran to the best of his ability right behind the woman. That’s when Tucker saw the rest of them round the corner. 

That’s when the small vibration at the bottom of his shoes started to shake him to his core.

That’s when the hoard saw them. All of them.

Broad View was the closest. They’d go for them first but they’d get to Golden View soon enough. They’d go for the group, not the single. 

Tucker looked back at the mall. If he crossed the road, he’d be at a side door. Whether or not it was unlocked didn’t matter. He’d still have a small window to go around to the front and slip in before any of them closed up. 

Yes. That was his plan.

No one had processed the hoard and the hoard hadn’t processed the lines of kids waiting like a coke whore’s dream.

Looking back, he saw how far away his friends, his  _ brother _ , were. He’d never warn them in time. Scanning the crowds, he made eye contact with the Captain. The fucking Captain.

His dead eyes stared back, almost guessing what Tucker was going to do. Tucker ignored his stupid face and the twins suddenly took up all of his vision. 

Quinn’s dark eyes were concerned with both Tucker and the hoard. Everything was in slow motion it seemed. How Quinn blinked and kept turning his head back and forth from the mass of sickly people to Tucker. His sister was entirely focused on the hoard, cupping her mouth as she saw the first few of them sidestep into the parking lot of Broad View. Broad View had begun to move. The lines of kids had started to run for the doors. When the first group started to run, the others followed. They were closer. They could see the face of them. The face of Carl the Toilet paper eater. 

It wasn’t until Broad View had started running that Golden View started running. So many kids. All of them going for more or less the same doors. Tucker would never get in before the hoard was upon them. Neither would the twins. 

“Hey!” He shouted at them. It caught their attention enough for them to turn to him. He gestured for them to follow him, but they hesitated. They looked back to Golden View and back to the hoard as it started to cross the football field. It was looking at them that Tucker saw the Captain sprinting. Not to the doors, but to them. His eyes were wild, and the sweat bounced off of his face. 

If they didn’t move right now, he’d be on them before the hoard even got the chance. 

In his own sidestep, Tucker grabbed ahold of both twins, pulling them off of the grass patch and shoving them to the road. They finally seemed to understand. They started to run across with Tucker right behind them.

Quinn’s sister reached the side door first. One tug was all she needed to know it was locked. She followed her brother as he ran alongside the building and rounded the corner to the front. Tucker was keeping up, but while rounding the corner his leg scraped against the brick. The puncture wounds and cuts from the glass fired up with pain. He kept going though, following the twins as they checked every door. 

Just as he feared that everything was locked, they finally retched a door open and ducked inside. Quinn held the door for Tucker but barely waited for him to get in before he swung it closed. 

That’s when the Captain smashed his ugly face into the glass doors with so much force that it cracked.

That’s when Tucker finally let himself breathe for a moment.

Just a moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dog, im so tired rn. like exhausted rn. like holy fuck dude. i got the chapter out though, and that's all that matters. imma break for tomorow then write the day after that. real savage like. whatever  
> 😩 ill see u when the next chapter gets out or whatever. imma go pass out.


	4. Screwed

The Captain wouldn't stop. He banged his head against the glass. Each hit leaving more blood than the last. It didn't matter if he smashed his head beyond recognition, he was getting in there and he was going to get his hands on them. 

Quinn was pressing himself to the door. It kept the Captain from outright opening it but if he managed to break through, Quinn would be the first on he'd get.

Quinn's sister tugged at Tucker. 

"Come on!" She yelled. Tucker let her drag him over to a nearby stand-up shelf. They had to be in a store by the looks of it. Quinn's sister ran to the other side of the shelf and grabbed it tightly. Tucker caught on to what she was trying to do and grabbed the other side himself. Not waiting for a countdown, they both pushed it over to the door just as the Captain punched through the glass and grabbed a shirt full of Quinn. The Captain had him by his tie, and with a struggle, Quinn pulled his head through the neck and staggered back. The Captain jerked his arm back through the hole taking the black tie with him. Before he could stick his hand back through, Tucker and the albino girl had pulled the shelf in front of it, blocking the entrance and a few of the side windows. It wasn't going to keep him out but it made it safer for them to press their whole body weight against the entrance without getting grabbed at. 

But just as they moved it into place, the Captain had come up to a window near the side. With one headbutt his skull was through. Lucky for them he seemed to be stuck with his head halfway through the glass.

Tucker went to the other side of the shelf with the girl and was prepared to push it forward when Quinn came running at the Captain's stuck head with a large wrench. With an awkward hold and an even awkwarder hit, Quinn bludgeoned the Captain with one swoop of his arms. Tucker could see skull collapse in on itself giving the Captain enough room to squeeze his head out. But just as soon as he was out, he fell to the ground dead.

Tucker looked at Quinn as he started heaving. His sister immediately ran to him. She only looked up to tell Tucker to "Find out how we can close it."

"Huh?" His ears were ringing and he didn't know if he heard her right. 

"Places like these usually have metal doors that go down. Try and find them before others come."

Tucker nodded his head profusely, already looking around for a switch of some sort. He couldn't leave them and go to the back and look, but he didn't have to. Piled up near the side of the far entrance were the security gates employees put up when it was closing time. As he went towards them, the dried blood on his pants began to dampen again. He must have bled through his bandages, but he didn't have time to think about them. Instead, he tugged the iron gates and dragged them to the other side. They suddenly stopped halfway past the door, going as far as they could. Tucker limped over to the other side and pulled iron bars there. Together they met in the middle and clicked together. They were secure though. For that, they needed a key.

"You two okay?" Tucker asked the twins. The girl brushed a stray piece of hair behind her ears and nodded while her brother fell to his knees.

"Quinn!" She gasped, kneeling down to him. 

Her brother sputtered. "I killed him. I killed Carl. Carl wasn't a bad person, he just went crazy. There could have been a chance for him to get better but I killed him!" His voice shook with what sounded like rage. "And then the Captain came at us and smashed his head in." He sniffed and pointed to the smashed glass allowing air in. "He wanted to hurt me but what if this is temperamental? What if in a couple of minutes all of those people outside go back to normal or something? Did I kill two people that could have been detained and fixed?" His breath started to pick up. "What about Carl, huh? Mrs. Dots came in the room just a second after I stabbed him!"

"Quinn, you can't blame yourself for self-defense." She rubbed his shoulder.

"Yeah," Tucker said. "You could have waited that one second for Mrs. Dots to come in, but if you had then I would be dead. "

Quinn raised his head and glared at Tucker.

"Don't give me that look. If it weren't for me, you and your sister would be either trampled or eaten. Maybe both."

"You don't know that." He shook his head slowly. "You don't know shit."

"Quinn," His sister interrupted him. "I don't know what happened, but-"

"Yeah, you don't know. You weren't there, Victoria." He snapped at her. 

"You got that right." Tucker said sarcastically. "I was in the bathroom before you and apparently I don't know shit. I can only imagine what she knows since she wasn’t even there." He tsked. 

Quinn gave him the death stare before he stood up and brushed himself off. 

"You weren't the one who shoved a shard of glass into the neck of someone you've known for years. And you sure as hell weren't the person bludgeoned a beloved teacher and war vet."

"No, I wasn't." Tucker took a step back and leaned against the iron bars. 

All three of them stood in silence. Tucker wanted to be mad at him, but he was right. He killed two people in the last hour. Of course, he was upset. It was just frustrating being on the other end of it. Pushing himself off the bars, Tucker took in the store. It was a tool store with shelves lined with equipment. That explained the wrench, but not why it was unlocked. 

"I gotta check the bathroom." Tucker started limped to the counter. "An employee could be sick in there."

Sick and hungry for flesh.

On the counter was a box of candy bars. Something about a school sale thing that Tucker took no notice to, only hoping the counter and checking the place out. Big double doors led into what looked like a warehouse, and looking to the right showed a small hallway. Tucker turned in a circle and searched for something to protect himself. There were sledgehammers, crowbars, miscellaneous tools, large wrenches like the one Quinn grabbed. Hammers, pipes, pliers, wires, tubing, screws. Some of it can be used for self-defense, others are junk. Something over in the yard aisle caught his eye. Hopping the counter once more, he walked along the shelves until he found something interesting.

**2-Tine/Diamond Hoe** was what the tag read. The thing in Tucker's hand looked nothing like a hoe. It looked like a pickaxe but different. The metal pole had a rubber handle on one end and a strange hook on the other. The other end had two sharp ends on one side and one large sharp end on the other. Tucker would hate to see the dirt it was meant to hoe, but for now, it looked like a good defensive weapon.

Ripping the price tag off, Tucker hopped the counter once more and went down the small dark hallway. There was only one door at the end of it. The sign nailed to it read 'Restroom' and the vibes coming off of it were rotten. 

Especially when a groan emitted from it.

Tucker knew what happened. The employee got sick and went to the bathroom to vomit and only turned into a flesh-eating monster. It wouldn't do any good opening the door. It was better to leave them and hope they didn't hear them. 

Tucker went back to the front of the store and saw the twins softly talking.

"We can't stay here." He announced in a normal voice. "Someone's in the bathroom and I don't want to take the chance of them unlocking the door. Besides, the iron gate won't protect us much if it's unlocked."

"Maybe the key is around here somewhere." Victoria shrugged. 

"It's probably on the employee in the bathroom. I'm not taking the chance."

"Where are we gonna go? Back to the school you dragged us away from?" Quinn said, still hostile towards Tucker.

"Fuck no. That place is going to be crawling with…" He couldn't find the word for them. "Look, the place is going to be a madhouse. The best thing we can do is try and get as far away as we can."

"And go  _ where _ ?" He repeated with more annoyance.

"Why don't you pick?" Tucker pointed his hoe at him. Quinn took the gesture threateningly.

"What is that?"

"It's a hoe. My hoe. I'm not going out there unarmed."

"What kind of hoe looks like that?"

"A 2-Tine diamond one. Now stop changing the subject. Where do you want to go?"

Victoria raised her hand timidly.

"I'm not a teacher. You can talk." Tucker scoffed.

She put her hand down. "The office firm our mom works at. That's where I want to go."

"Because your mom is there, I presume?"

"Yes. She wasn't sick this morning, so she should be fine."

Tucker shifted his jaw in thought. "How far away is it?"

"About a ten-minute drive."

It sounded like a good idea until he remembered that the only car that he could take without stealing was his brother's. His brother was stuck in a school surrounded by people who want to kill him.

Tucker cursed under his breath and reached for his phone before remembering that it was dropped in the bloody bathroom. Forgotten and useless.

"Can I borrow one of your phones?" He asked in a voice that was almost desperate.

The twins fumbled through their uniform pockets before Victoria handed him hers. 

"We have to call mom anyway. Let her know we’re safe." Quinn said, pressing the numbers on the keypad.

Tugger was also dialing on the phone and pressing it to his ear. It was strange. He could call his friends through their contacts and pre-entered numbers, but when it came to his brother he had his number memorized to a T.

It rang one time before he picked up.

A disorienting number of noises screamed through the phone. Everyone was yelling on the other end. Things were being knocked over and orders were being shouted over the intercom it seemed. Tucker could barely hear Malcolm’s voice when he asked a question.

"It's me, Tucker!" He tried to get through the much louder noises.

"Tucker!" Malcolm yelled on the other line, telling him that he could hear him. "Where are you?"

"We're in a hardware store across the street."

"What?" Malcolm seemed to be jostled around before he came back a bit clearer. "You're across the street?"

"Yeah, I'm with two other kids. We were too far away to get to the school, and even if we were we wouldn't have made it in." Tucker wiped his forehead, breaking into a sweat just from talking to his brother. "Are you okay? What's happening?"

A few seconds of nothing but white noise later, it died down slightly. "It's not good. Everyone is pressing the desks against the windows to try and keep them out. I don't know what's happening."

"Neither do I. Are you surrounded?"

"Yes, we are." Malcolm sighed on the other end, almost deflating. "They couldn't get the front doors closed. There were too many of them pressing against it. A teacher had to throw himself out to knock them back and they were forced to close the doors on him."

"What's going on? Are you talking to someone in the school?" Quinn came to Tucker's side suddenly. Tucker put the phone on speakerphone, letting them hear the chaos themselves.

"I don't think we can hold them off." Malcolm started to choke up on the other end. "I think I'm going to die here."

"Don't say shit like that!" Tucker's voice cracked. "If they break through you gotta run. Fucking hide. Don't be a hero. If I can get to your car I can run them over or something. Just-"

"Tucker!" Malcolm interrupted him. "If you are going to sit here and shout at me to not be a hero then take your own advice and get as far away from here as you can."

"If you think I'm leaving you to fend for yourself then you're an idiot!"

"The parking lot is swarmed. As soon as you stick your head out of wherever you are, they'll be on you."

"Better me than you."

"Tucker," He groaned. "This isn't a joke!"

"Do you think I'm fucking joking? I'd do anything to protect you!"

"You won't do me any good by going out there and getting yourself killed!"

"Then what the hell am I supposes to do? Just stand by?" Tucker was close to screaming to his words. This wasn't how his day was supposed to go. He wasn't supposed to be yelling at his brother through the phone and terrified for his life. He should be in school right now. Taking a test or something. Eating lunch, chatting with friends, annoying his brother. His brother who was out of his reach to help, could die at any moment. His brother could  _ die. _

"Malcolm," Tucker sucked in deep breaths, trying to stay calm for his brother's sake. "Malcolm please don't hang up."

"I don't know if I can stay on much longer. They need help."

"Fuck them, you need to take care of yourself and… and…"

Tucker didn't know what to say. He couldn't help him.

"I can't leave them. I can't leave Bill and Bucky."

"Then go get them and just-"

"Bucky's hurt badly. I didn't get a good look at him but he was trampled. If Bill hadn't dragged him in he would've been dead, so even if there were a way to escape there would be no way of getting Bucky out. And if Bucky's not going then Bill's not going, and I'm not going without either of them."

Tucker pulled at his hair roughly with his hand. Strands intertwined with his fingers and he pulled them out along. He wanted so badly to say 'Screw Bill and Bucky' but he couldn't. He couldn't say 'They'll be dead soon anyway if the hoard gets through' but he just couldn't. When he felt himself about to say anything at all he bit his tongue so hard that an irony taste filled his mouth.

"Malcolm," He begged. "Malcolm, please!" He didn't know what he wanted him to do. No that was a lie. He knew exactly what he wanted him to do.

"Malcolm, please don't go!"

Nothing but noise. Malcolm seemed to be moving back towards the shouting and crying. Tucker felt like crying as well.

"Tucker," Malcolm started. "If all of these kids die because there was one window uncovered, I'd never forgive myself. They need help."

Tucker didn't say anything. He only tightened his grip on the phone. The only thing that was keeping him and Malcolm together.

"I guess I should consider myself lucky. Not many people can say something and know it'll be their last words."

"Malcolm," Tucker warned.

" _ If  _ these are my last words to you," He audibly sighed. "Just know that I love you, and that…" A pause. "You need to get out while you can. Take the opportunity you're in and get to safety."

Tucker's vision blurred with tears. He should say something but his mind was blank and it hurt to speak.

"Malcolm, don't go." He whispered so softly that his brother wouldn't be able to hear it.

"I have to go."

And then a crash that was certainly a window shattering was the last thing Tucker heard before the call ended. 

His hand squeezed the phone tightly. He wanted so badly to throw it but it wasn't his. 

With a deep swallow that took three tried to get down, he handed the phone back to Victoria. She had a look of horror on her face, mirroring her brother's own shocked expression.

Quinn licked his lips. "W-Who was that?" He stuttered.

Tucker closed his eyes, picturing Malcolm. It was his school yearbook photo that was hung up in the hall right above Tucker's. He always passed it. Every day he got a look of his stupid mug. Now the only time Tucker might see his face is in photos.

He swallowed once more trying to keep so much more than spit down. After a long pause, he thought he wouldn't say anything, but to his own surprise, his lips moved and he croaked.

"My brother."

The feet underneath him started to move. It didn't feel like his body anymore. It was as if it was on autopilot and he was along for the ride. His arm swooped down and picked up his hoe, and then took the long way around the counter. His hand lifted up and pushed the warehouse door opened and he slipped in. The doors closed behind him, and he couldn't see.

It was complete darkness in there. Shifting to the side until he found a wall, Tucker turned around and pressed his back against it. Then he slipped down until he was sitting. And then he started to cry for his brother.

+++++

It was a long while before Tucker raised his head and wiped his wet cheeks. The first time he had cried that day was because of terror. Now it was because of sorrow. Was his brother crying right now? Was he alive to cry?

Some part in Tucker was hoping so, and instead of pushing it away he embraced the hope. Fuck being realistic. The moment he believed his brother was dead was the moment he would find the body. If a doctor in a hospital had come up to Tucker and told him that his brother was dead Tucker would laugh in his face and tell him to show him the body. If there truly was a body, Tucker would hold it in his arms. Doing that would be enough to bring him back. It was. He knew it was. His brother couldn't die. Not now. He was supposed to die when he was old and retired. If anything, Tucker was supposed to die before him. He was the reckless child and would jump off of a building while his brother shook his head in disapproval. That was how it was supposed to happen, not like this.

Tucker shook those thoughts from his head the best he could. He could only grab onto the hope that his brother was alive and hold on tightly. He wasn't going to let go. They'd have to take his hope from his cold dead hands. 

He sniffed and rubbed his face get some feeling into it. His eyes stung and were wey and dry all at the same time. Licking his lips proved helpful to the dryness and being aware of his breathing help in more ways than he could count.

His brother was right. He needed to get to safety. If he did then he could warn others about the dangers and get help for the school. For his brother. Going in there on his own would be suicide. But if he was quick enough to get help, he could save some of them. The third boy in the bathroom had ran out without telling anyone. Tucker wasn't going to do that. He was going to get them help. Take the opportunity he had and use it save others. Just like the twins at the front of the store.

Tucker sniffed grabbed the side of his jacket, pulling it tighter and making him feel safer. If he could wake up from this nightmare he'd greatly appreciate it.

Instead of waking up, a low creak came from above. 

Looking up he only saw the ceiling, but looking around he saw that the ceiling ended halfway and was connected to a set of long stairs. It must have been for extra storage or something. Maybe they kept some food up there or something. Tucker couldn't help but hear his stomach growl in curiosity. He hadn't eaten today, and whatever he had in his stomach from yesterday was vomited out earlier. Maybe he'd take a candy bar or something. He wasn't above stealing, and his morals were out of wack at the moment. A feeling like he should do something bad because he was upset had taken over him before, but this wasn't a time to go out and graffiti a building. 

As he was thinking, the storage space above creaked again.

Blinking his vision clear, Tucker dragged his hoe across the cement ground and used it as leverage to stand up. He had been sitting for so long that the cold had seeped into his legs and made them stiff. A grunt escaped the back of his throat as he looked up to the dark rafters. A figure appeared at the top of the stairs and peered down at Tucker just as Carl had. And then it lunged, just as Carl had. 

Flying down the stairs, it tucked into itself and rolled on impact with the ground. It was a woman. She was frothing at the mouth as if she were a rabid animal, and when she looked up to Tucker he only saw hunger in her eyes. Scurrying to her feet, she ducked away from his hoe as he swung at her. Tucker followed her movements as she maneuvered past him. His sore legs backed up away from her as she slowed down and straightened up. Now they were in opposite positions from when they started, with her next to the door and Tucker at the base of the stairs. Taking a meek step to the left, Tucker began the slow process of Circling around her. She stepped with him, joining his predatory dance as they both looked for the right moment to charge.

Tucker wanted to scream for the others but he was terrified that any sudden sound from him would provoke her. If Quinn was right and this was temperamental, then now would be a good time for everyone to snap out of their rabid state.

They circled each other and each step felt like a wrong move to Tucker. Every time he felt like she was getting closer she was suddenly getting farther away. This wasn’t like Carl. This was something more methodical and thought out. Instead of just grabbing at him and trying her best, she was planning it out. 

Her plan went into motion when she took one deliberate step towards him. Tucker’s reflexes took over and he held his hoe up to warn her against coming closer while stepping back himself. In doing so, his feet tripped over a stray crate he hadn’t seen and the only thing he could think about was keeping a tight grip on the hoe as he fell down.

The air was knocked out of him not by the impact of falling but by the woman kneeing him the gut as she jumped onto him. Not hesitating, Tucker aimed for her head. His angle was off and instead of a sharp point embedding into her skull, he only knocked her on the side of the head. While that wasn’t what he wanted, it helped him anyway by smacking her to the side and sending her off of his chest.

He didn’t have time to think, he only had time to move. He kicked the crate away and dived forward towards the door. A hand grabbed the ankle of his track pants and pulled him back. Tucker wasn’t about to lose his life over a pair of pants, so he wiggled furiously as he felt them slip from his body. Fucking good thing he didn’t wear jeans today. Using his elbows and legs he bear crawled out of the woman’s grasp, feeling his shoes get caught inside of his pants as her hands grasped higher for a limb. With an instinctive kick, his foot connected with the woman’s face and shattered the bridge of her nose, causing her to scream and draw her hands back for only a moment, giving him time to scramble out of his pants and stand up. Just as he was in reach of the doors, they opened with Quinn and Victoria looking very confused. Their confusion turned to fear as he pushed both of them out. 

“What the hell is-” Quinn started to ask before Tucker told him to shut up and shoved both of them around the counter.

“There was another one of those crazy people in there!” He explained in as little words as possible, keeping both eyes on the swinging doors. He had dropped his hoe in the struggle and was now weaponless. “Go get that wrench or something else. Just arm yourselves with whatever you can.”

Both of them paused for thought, scared out of their minds and not really wanting to turn their backs to the threat Tucker told them was there. They saw the woman for themselves when the doors stopped swinging for a moment and her snarling face was looking through the small window. Her chin was dripping with blood from her nose, mixing with the frothy spit from her mouth. That was what sent them running, and made Tucker stand his ground. Even when she opened the doors and slipped into the store, he stood there. She wasn’t about to start playing games with him though, opting instead to get to the point now that he was unarmed and jumping the counter. Tucker backed up quickly and she kept an uncomfortable and faster pace with him. Finally, his back hit a rack that clanged noisily behind him. The woman was only a yard away and was about to jump him, and even though turning around was something he did not want to do, it was the only thing he could do.

A quick glance back showed that he had run into a rack of green and black sledgehammers. With even quicker hands he had one that felt too light in his hands swinging at the woman. It made contact with his shoulder, slightly off of his original mark. His aim was going to be the death of him. The swing had messed up his balance and sent him staggering to the right as she staggered to left as well and recovered much quicker. Taking the few seconds he had, Tucker planter his feet and swung again. The hammer was a lightweight but still deadly, but only if he could just hit his mark. 

He didn’t hit his mark. She only ducked out of his predestined swing and had her teeth sunk into his leather jacket, thankfully protecting his skin. That’s when out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Victoria come running with a San Angelo bar. Her aim was much better than his, sinking the long steel bar into the side of the woman. The steel bar went right through her and game out the other side. Improvising, Victoria held onto one end of the bar and grabbed onto the other, pulling the woman away from Tucker with the added support. She didn’t hold on for long, kicking the woman away from her with a very skilled kick. 

The woman stumbled, trying to decide if she should pull the bar out or attack them again. Her decision making was too slow to add whether or not she should duck from the wrench that Quinn bashed right into her face, sending her backwards to the counter. Her hands slapped counter with a cringy noise following as she scratched into the surface with her nails. Not thinking, she tried to turn around only for the bar to catch onto the side of the counter snag inside her, causing her to cry out and hastily fix her position. She collapsed, regaining her bearings. Tucker was gasping for breath as watched her struggle, knowing that someone should do something. He turned to Victoria and saw that she was unarmed having embedded her bar into the woman. Turning to Quinn showed a shaking mess. He wasn’t going to give the final blow. Not again. 

Tucker grabbed the green sledgehammer and dragged it along with him as he cautiously approached the woman and she started screaming at him. He shouldn’t have been slacking. She took the opportunity to swing her body to the side and thrust herself at him with full intent to shishkabob them together. 

A sound that was close to a printer sputtering out a page, only faster and with much more violence, filled the room. The woman’s feet collapsed underneath her and her head smacked the marble floor. Her brain was now filled with nails. Sticking out and making her look like a pincushion.

Tucker looked up and saw who was standing behind the counter holding a nail gun. It was a man with very neat ginger hair and a very annoyed face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly don't have anything to say rn. Oh well.  
> I'll update soon probably. My schedules been out of wack recently and it will most likely stay that way for a while. Fret not though, for i literally spend every spare moment I have in school writing on this! So don't worry, im not going to monthly update but im not going to daily update either. Weekly? Sure, why nah.


	5. Don't Think. Only Act

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've been making gifs instead of writing ooooops  
> but fr, the discovered bts vids are taking over my life.

"Well that's just lovely now, isn't it?" The ginger man grumbled. 

"Where the hell did you come from?" Tucker was immediately wary of the man. 

"I was in the bathroom-" He started, but Tucker already had the sledgehammer pointed at him.

"No one was in the bathroom besides a sick person."

The man did not look at all intimidated by Tucker. To prove it, he set down the nail gun he had just used to take down the crazy woman. "I don't know what you mean by that. If you heard something from in there it was probably me waking up."

"What's that mean?" He wasn't taking any chances and used the sledgehammer to hook and pull the nail gun off of the counter and on to the floor.

"I don't know either." The man shrugged. "One moment I'm checking on Riley and the next moment I'm shooting a bunch of nails into Riley." He looked down at the woman's body. That was probably Riley.

"Go from the beginning." Tucker dragged the nail gun closer and took a few steps back to give the man space.

"You wanna know?" He shifted his eyes, looking around at the bloody floor. "I was setting up the cash register when Riley ran to the bathroom sick. I was busy opening the store so I left her to it. After about an hour, she still hadn't come back and I had decided to check on her myself since Maria was up checking stock." He pointed towards the double doors. "I knocked on the door and it opened. She pulled me in and smacked my head against the mirror and then on the toilet." He subconsciously rubbed at the large welt on the side of his head. "Last thing I remember was Maria calling my name and Riley shutting the door on me."

A deep swallow came from Tucker as he assessed the situation. "You're not sick, are you? Haven't been vomiting or getting clammy skin?"

"No." He shook his head. 

Tucker nodded. 

They stood in awkward silence.

"What about you then?" The man grabbed a candy bar off of the floor. The box must have fallen. "How'd you three get in here? Shouldn't you be in school?"

How long has this man been unconscious? 

"It's a long story," Quinn answered. "There was an attack. A kid who was sick turned crazy and killed two other students. We had to evacuate, and that's when the hoard showed up."

"The hoard?"

"A fuck-ton of sick and crazy people coming for us. We barely had time to cross the street and hide in your store before one of them caught up to us." Tucker answered. Quinn slowly looked back at the smashed windows behind the security gates. The Captain’s body was still sprawled on the ground outside.

"Speaking of which," Tucker picked up the nail gun and examined it. "How much ammo do you have for this thing?"

"It's a tool store. The ammo is nails. Do the math." The ginger man laughed dryly. "Why?"

"You took her out super quick. We were struggling to even wound her while you killed her with just a few shots." He pointed at Riley. "So this is an obviously superior weapon to take out zombies."

"Zombies?" Quinn questioned, almost sounding offended.

"Sick people going crazy and eating people. They're fucking zombies." He snapped back.

"The only reason you want to call them that is because it's better to perceive them as mindless dead people that are beyond help." Quinn crossed his arms. "When in reality they're sick people taken over by a disease of some sort. There's a chance that we can get them help."

"How about we stop focusing on the zombies getting help and turn our attention to getting the schools help?" Tucker threw his sledgehammer to the side, liking the feel of the nail gun in his hand better. He stepped towards Quinn. "If we all get a nail gun each then we can take out most of the zombies quicker than you can say 'fuck me' and then we can pick them off using whatever we find in here. We can save them."

Quinn straightened his tie. "That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard. There were enough sick people to fill the entire football field and spill into the parking lot. Four measly nail gun isn’t going to take care of them. And besides, it's probably already too late to save the people in the schools."

Tucker felt his mouth twitch. "What's that mean?"

"We all heard the call. They got in. A window smashed. We all heard it clear as day."

Tucker blinked profusely. This kid was dumb as fuck and was getting on his nerves. He was so far up his own ass in saving a bunch of crazy people that he couldn't even see the fact that they had to act  _ now  _ or else-

"Look, I know your brother and friends were in there, but my friends were in there too. You need to do what your brother told you to do in the first place. Take advantage of the place you're in and get out." He looked past Tucker towards the man. "What's your name?"

"Samuel." The ginger man said. Tucker didn't see his face because he was too busy staring at Quinn.

Quinn ignored Tucker. "Do you think you can get us out of the city? Do you have a car or something we can use?"

"I don't know. This is all happening so fast."

"But if we needed to get out of here right now, could you get us out of here?"

Samuel paused. "Yes."

With a smug smile, Quinn looked back at Tucker. "See? We have the opportunity to get out of here. If we can get to safety we can alert the authorities about the schools. If there are any survivors, they'll be saved."

Tucker didn't answer. It wasn't good enough. He wasn't about to leave the city while his brother needed his help.

Tucker poked Quinn in the chest hard enough to push him back an inch. 

"You're wrong."

That brought a scowl to the boy's face. He raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue. "How? How am I wrong?"

"You just are." Tucker growled.

Quinn rolled his eyes. "Whenever I have a suggestion I always back it up with logic. I told you how it was and I gave you a solution, and all you have to argue back with is 'you're wrong'." He shook his head in annoyance. "How-"

Tucker didn't let him finish. He opted instead to punch him. Samuel was yelling at him to calm down and Victoria was running past him to help her brother who had fallen to the ground holding his cheek and swearing at Tucker all the while. Something deep in Tucker wanted to apologize, but the majority of him was dead set on getting his brother to safety. Malcolm wasn't dead. He couldn't be.

"I don't care if you help me or not." Tucker checked the nail gun. There wasn't as many nails as he thought there would be. "They need our help. I don't care if I have to draw the whole hoard towards me to open a window for them to escape. If it's their lives against mine then it's quite obvious what needs to be done."

"So you're going to draw to hoard towards us, huh? What about us?" Quinn snapped, still rubbing his cheek in pain.

"Just stay in the store and move when I get them far away enough." He was done talking, already making his way to the gate.

"What the hell makes you think you can outrun them? All you're going to do is drag them over to us and then  _ we're _ screwed."

"It's either two schools or two kids." He grabbed ahold of the gate and pulled it to the side.

"What about Samuel? Are you just going to let him die?" Quinn grabbed ahold of Tucker. He knew he was in the danger zone of getting punched again. "He can get us out of here."

"Then why don't you-" Tucker started to pull away from him when he stopped. With a jerk, he looked to Samuel's worried face. "How exactly can you get us out of here?"

He pointed to himself confused before shaking his head clear. "I have my truck. And if that doesn't fit all of ya, then I have the company van out back."

"Which ones faster?"

"My truck."

"Take that. I'm going to use the company van and draw them away."

The satisfied look on Quinn's face dropped. He had thought Tucker was going with them once he knew their options. But he's only made adjustments to his suicide mission. 

Before he could argue, Victoria spoke up. "Or we can all get into the truck and draw them away. Slowing down to keep their attention and speeding up when we need to." She scratched her chin. "Either truck is a good option when it comes to staying out of their reach. A human can't keep up to a car going twenty miles per hour."

She paused taking in Tucker's scowl. "What? Did you want to be the hero?"

Tucker was getting real sick and tired of the twin’s matter-of-fact attitude. He hated it because they were right and they knew it. Their sense of superiority was spoon-fed to you whenever they opened their mouths and it pissed him off.

The nail gun was slipped out of his hands by Quinn. "Can you just stop and think?"

No. He couldn't just stop and think. He never stops and thinks. If he had stopped and thought then he wouldn't be in this situation right now. If he hadn't gone into the school he and his brother would be together right now. If he hadn't gone into the school Mrs. Dots would have heard the fight and would've been able to save the other boys in the bathroom. If he hadn't gone into the school…

He'd be in his own school. Fighting to keep the hoard out alongside his brother.

But he wasn't with his brother. He was in a tool store with a bunch of know-it-alls and some old ginger dude. 

But the know-it-alls were right. And the ginger dude had a truck. 

Tucker looked at Samuel. "Do you want to do this with us? I have my permit, I can drive myself."

Samuel scratched the back of his head. "Well,"

The double doors behind him swung open. Another woman stepped out. Her shirt was ripped open and chunks of flesh were missing from her abdomen. They were bitten away, but the bites weren't deep enough to make it through the muscle, only breaking the surface and taking an outer layer of fat as well. Pressing her hand to the door, Tucker saw that all of her fingers were missing. Bitten off and most likely eaten.

"Maria!" Samuel cried out. Maria also cried out, charging at Samuel before anyone could think to stop her. Bounding over the counter and leaping for Samuel's throat. 

Not with her hands. No, she didn't have any fingers to choke him. She was looking to sink her teeth into his neck and tear the skin off.

She almost did. With fear, Samuel ducked to the side. Not in time to dodge her completely, only to save his neck. The same couldn't be said for his shoulder as she bit down and held on. Samuel tripped over the body of Riley as he struggled to fight Maria off.

Tucker had raised the nail gun to shoot her, but they were struggling too much. It was a 50/50 chance that the nails would end up in either Maria or Samuel. Maybe both. He couldn't take the risk with the nail gun. He instead dropped it and snatched up the sledgehammer on the ground. 

Just as Maria had pinned Samuel, Tucker took a swing at her head like he would a golf club. The impact was disorienting but brought joy to Tucker with the fact that he hit her. Her jaw audibly cracked and her head was thrown back from the momentum. Holding his injured shoulder, Samuel crawled hastily away. Tucker took a step forward.

Before she could get a feeling of her surroundings or try to get up, Tucker arched the sledgehammer over his head and brought it down. He closed his eyes before it made contact. The feeling of the sledgehammer stopping with a jolt was all he needed to know that he had hit his mark. He didn't stop or think. He knew that it wasn't enough to kill. 

Keeping his eyes closed, he arched the sledgehammer once more and swiftly slammed it back down. 

Malcolm was trapped in the school that Tucker had dragged him into. His parents could be trapped somewhere as well. All by the sick and stinking people that wanted to take a bite out of him. Fuck Quinn's philosophy of saving them. These things were zombies.

He pulled the sledgehammer back up and over his head to throw it back down. He did it again, and again, and on the third strike, he finally heard the soft smacking of the hammer to her face being replaced by the hammer smashing bone.

This woman, Maria, or whatever her name was, she was just like them. She tried to kill Samuel and Tucker knew for a fact that if she had the hammer in her hands she'd be doing exactly what he was doing. He couldn't show mercy. Not to the zombies that… No, no, Malcolm wasn't dead!

His hits sped up. He kept going until the sounds of bones being crushed was replaced once again by soft smacking sounds. He grunted from the effort of each swing as he continued to do it over and over again. 

If Malcolm was hurt, he'd kill every single one of them. Even if it was just an epidemic that would pass, he'd find whoever hurt his brother and he'd make them pay. God help them if they killed Malcolm.

No. Malcolm wasn't dead. Nobody killed him. Nobody fucking killed him!

But if they did? What if Malcolm was dead? 

Soon, his grunts turned to whines which soon turned to sobs.

With one final swing that landed with a wet splat, Tucker threw the sledgehammer with a cry of fury. He didn't know which direction it went or if he had thrown it at someone. All he heard was the sound of shelves falling. Another cry escaped him as he turned around in circles, not wanting to face the woman. His brother's murderer. Every single one of them had killed his brother. 

He stopped himself pulled at his hair. That wasn't right. None of this was right. He couldn't think straight.

He still had his eyes closed, and he kept them closed. It was just like the bathroom. No seeing. Only hearing. 

Slowing down, he stopped spinning and looked up to the ceiling before opening his eyes. Then he slowly looked back down. 

He was looking right at Maria's body.

It didn't register. Only a small pressure in the center of his head told him that what he was looking at was upsetting. The only thing he could fully make out was her bottom jaw craned down to her neck. Half of the teeth he saw were broken and chipped. Pulling his gaze upwards, he saw a few stray teeth poking out of her upper lip. The bridge of her nose was crooked. So crooked that the tip laid pressed against her left cheek. That's when he saw the crater in the center of her face that was for sure his main point of contact. 

How her nose laid pressed against her cheek while simultaneously poking up as one end was embedded into the crater was beyond Tucker. One eye looked right at him while the other was melted into the flat surface that was once the pocket for her socket. The burst iris had drooped to the side and was almost looking at the center of her face. Almost taking in the damage and asking 'What did you do to me?'

Tucker had killed her. 

He didn't just kill her though. He had excessively hammered her face in long after she had died. 

The small pressure in the center of his face suddenly spread out to his entire body. His legs started shaking, his heart physically hurt, and his nose started to burn.

"Oh my god." He croaked. His hands moved up to cover his face. To block out the image of the woman. But now when he closed his eyes that was what he saw. "Oh my god!" He couldn't get her out of his head. He couldn't get rid of Carl's sweaty face as his neck squirted blood. He couldn't get rid of Riley's nail ridden face. He couldn't get Malcolm's words out of his head. What the hell did Malcolm even say? He couldn't remember. All he could remember was his voice just before the window broke open and he was killed.

No, no, no. He wasn't killed. He wasn't killed! If Malcolm had been killed then there would be no one to pull Tucker into a hug and pat his shoulder, telling him that it was going to be alright and that mom and dad would be there soon. No one in the room with him could do that. Only Malcolm could do that. And Malcolm  _ was  _ going to do that. He was alive. They'd meet again. He was alive. They'd meet again.

Maria's bludgeoned face flashed before him and he cried out, willing for it to go away. He opened his eyes and ran for the counter, pressing his to the cold surface. He wanted to rest his head on his arms but that would leave him in darkness and in darkness he couldn't see and when he couldn't see all he could see was what he did to that poor woman. He murdered her. Had smashed her face in until it was nothing but mush. That wasn't self-defense that was cruel. That was evil.

He felt Malcolm's hand lightly grab his shoulder. Tucker turned to him and immediately wrapped his arms around his brother. 

No, wait. This was too short to be his brother. Maybe it was. Maybe it was a younger Malcolm. The older Malcolm wouldn't forgive Tucker for what he did. Only a younger version who didn't know the severity could. Tucker didn't blame older Malcolm for not forgiving him. He wouldn't either. 

All he wanted was a hug from his brother. And when the much shorter arms questioningly hugged back, Tucker couldn't help but start crying again. He needed to stop. He had already cried too much today. He had cried in the bathroom because he had feared for his life and he had cried in the musty storage place because his brother was dead.

His brother was dead. 

The short person he was hugging and sobbing into the shoulder of wasn't his brother. His brother was in the school. Fighting for his life if he hadn't already lost it. Since he was the type to jump in front of a bullet for a complete stranger, Tucker knew it was probably the latter. Malcolm would have probably saved ten kids before he went down. 

And those ten kids could be alive right now. Some of them could be getting killed right now. 

Not if he stopped it. 

The shorter person had to either be Quinn or Victoria, and when he lifted his head he was surprised it was Quinn with an already forming bruise on his cheek. Tucker reminded himself to apologize later. Right now he could only think about one thing. 

The kids in the school.

Quinn looked awkward and uncomfortable from having basically a stranger cry on his shoulder so Tucker saved him the embarrassment and turned away quickly.

"Samuel." He sniffed. The ginger man was looking at his decimated coworker and Tucker cursed himself quickly. "I'm sorry."

He looked up at Tucker with a confused look on his face. His shoulder was bleeding profusely and they needed to fix that soon. "It's alright kid. She was about to take my throat out. It's just that…"

He trailed off and Tucker couldn't wait anymore. "We need that van."

Samuel nodded. "Okay." He stood up slowly and patted his pockets, finding a pair of keys and clutching them in his shaking hand. "Okay."

They had decided to drive the work van. Samuel's own truck was too small to fit all four of them, with 90% of the truck dedicated to back bed and with only a small compartment in the front for passengers.

The work van was also mostly dedicated to a large space in the back that was made for hauling tool related items, but it also had a larger compartment that could fit all four of them. It was bigger and slower, but fast enough that a human wouldn't be able to keep up with it. 

The van was parked in a small garage just outside. The only problem was that nobody wanted to be the first to step out.

"I can do it." Samuel said, poking his head out of the door slightly. They had used almost every bandaid they found in the first aid kit and wrapped it up with the gauze. It was already leaking slightly.

"Are you sure you're fast enough?" Tucker asked, hopping on one foot to the other. He was a nervous wreck.

"Well, no, but I can pull the truck out front and let y'all hop in."

"You can only do that if you make it to the van that's yards away. There's a hoard just across the street and if any of them saw you-"

"Isn't the whole point to be seen and draw their attention?" Quinn interrupted.

"Not until we're in the van, you idiot." Tucker turned and snapped at him only to receive a punch to the face that made him step back in shock.

"That's for punching me in the face." Quinn shook his hand in pain. It looked like the punch had hurt him more than it did Tucker. 

"Do you have some weird obsession with being even?"

Quinn hissed in pain as he held his hand. Tucker realized that he had thrown the punch with his cut hand. "Just get us out of here!"

Tucker tsked and went to discuss how they were going to get over there with Samuel, but Samuel was gone.

"He ran for it." Victoria crossed her arms. "You two would have noticed if you weren't busy fighting."

"Shut up." Tucker scoffed.

"Hey!" He looked at Quinn standing on the tips of his toes, trying to make himself look as big as possible. But even then he was still a good few inches under Tucker. "Don't talk to my sister like that."

"Don't tell me what to do. And besides, girls go nuts when I talk shit like that."

Quinn and Victoria squinted at him. Tucker rolled his eyes.

"What? Do you want an example?"

Victoria held her hands up. "No, thank you."

"Why? Scared I'll seduce you?" He winked. 

They looked at him as if he were insane. Quinn even looked a little disappointed.

"It fucking works." He pointed at them. "I get hella bitches."

A honk outside made all of them jump. The van was outside of the store with Samuel behind the wheel. The twins were outside of the door first with Tucker right behind them. He suddenly changed his mind and went back inside. Jogging to the garden isle, he grabbed as many sharp tools as he could along with a replacement hoe. With his arms full of garden tools, he walked back outside. 

"What the hell are you doing?" Quinn hissed at him. Tucker dumped half of his tools into his arms.

"We can't go out there unarmed. If we get attacked we need to defend ourselves."

The door behind Quinn opened to reveal his sister. She beckoned both of them in before beckoning them to stop and go around back.

When they got there, she opened the back door that led into a spacious holding area. Other than the driver and passenger seats, the van walls had double set seats lining the walls. Quinn dropped the tools onto the van floor before hopping in. Tucker dropped his own load onto the pile before pushing it over, giving himself enough room to get in as well. 

Quinn and Victoria had already buddied-up on one of the double seats which was fine by Tucker. He wanted to sit in the passenger seat anyway.

"That was a lot easier than I thought." Samuel bounced in his seat. "I was scared that someone would come out and grab me, but I made it."

Tucker looked at the pristine dashboard and could feel the tough tires underneath them. Screw leading the hoard away, they could take them all out with a simple drift.

"Hey, Sam, uh, can I call you Sam?" Tucker buckled up.

"Sure."

"Run over as many as you can. The less zombies blocking the field the better."

"That wasn't the plan." Quinn called from the backseat.

"I wasn't talking to you." He looked over the empty parking lot. It was around 9 o’clock when everything started and Tucker would have thought that there would be more people about. It didn't matter. They needed to stay focused.

Something in the corner of his eye caught his attention. It had looked like a person just turned walked into one of the stores. But searching for any evidence proved the Tucker was just seeing things. 

"Just drive." He told Sam. 

The van pushed forward. It only took a few seconds for them to pull out of the parking lot and get an eye full of the hoard. They were still pressed against the schools, banging at the windows and smashing them open with their heads. Tucker could see a few of them crawling in and it made his stomach flip.

"Drive." He ordered Sam. The ginger man pressed on the gas lightly. He wasn't that excited anymore now that he's actually seen the immensity of the problem. 

Tucker could see them starting to pick up rocks and throw them at the building. The double doors to Golden View were being bombarded by the weight of dozens of people trying to get in. With each heave, they opened a little bit further.

"I said fucking drive!" He yelled and Samuel who had frozen at the wheel. 

Not thinking, Tucker unbuckled his seat belt stood up. It was enough to snap Samuel out of his stupor.

"What are you doing?"

Tucker pointed to the backseat. "Move!"

With fumbling hands, Samuel unbuckled his seat belt and moved. Tucker sat into the driver's seat and slammed on the gas.

Sam hadn't sat down yet. The lurch forward threw him to the floor where his eye barely missed a pitchfork. 

"Tucker, stop!" He could hear Quinn yell in the back. He didn't listen.

The van barreled across the street and into the backs of people. Was Tucker hallucinating? Did he have a psychological break and was now running over innocent people? Best not to dwell on that. 

He could feel the tires through the steering wheel as he pulled it to the left. Tucker had drifted before plenty of times. Every Sunday morning he'd hear Malcolm complain that his tires were fucked up without a clue that Tucker had taken it out for a spin. But now his brother was dead. As far as he was concerned, every single one of the mouth breathing shufflers had killed him. For a moment he understood Quinn's need to get even.

The walls of the van began to ever so slightly bend in on themselves. Banging was heard all around them as if it were raining. The drops were steady and heavy. Maybe there was even a bit of sleet with how violent the bangs were. 

Tucker breaked it right there. He could hear the bodies of some of the people he had run over spill off of the roof. One of them even landed on the windshield.

It wasn't fucking raining.

He had been parked for too long. A zombie smacked his head into the passenger side window with enough force to crack it but not shatter it. Tucker backed up and felt the van bounce over either dead or soon to be dead bodies. The van tilted slightly as if it were going up a hill and then it stopped. Tucker's eyes widened. Pressing the gas to go forward made the tires rotate but the van didn't move. It only took a few seconds for the van to get surrounded by zombies.

"You fucking idiot!" He was retched out of his seat and dragged to the back. Sam had gotten into a seat luckily, and it was the twins who were unbuckled and dragging Tucker around. 

"I'm sorry." He yelled. His apologies fell on deaf ears as the twins took to the cockpit. Tucker was still lying on the cold floor of the van. He didn't have enough energy to get up and he didn't know why. Was his body having an out of body experience to save him from the inevitable death he just got them into? 

Oh god. He just killed them all. 

His limp body slid to the side as the van started moving again. It was enough for him to sit up and look towards the drivers. Victoria was at the wheel, turning off the manual and pulling at the stickshift instead. Her brother was busy giving her directions. 

"Look for the flagpole!"

"I see it!"

She turned the van with effort. They were completely boxed in with people on all sides of them. Tucker made eye contact with a woman right in view of the windshield. Her face disappeared though as Victoria gunned it.

"Slow down, go for the field." Her brother instructed, looking around madly at the chaos around them. Somehow through the sea of bodies, he pointed. "There! Watch out for the bleachers."

"Got it."

Tucker was thrown to the very back of the van as they sped up, landing on a shovel that went right into his side. The entire pile of things was strewn to the right as the van turned. From the back, Tucker could hear the bodies flying over the van much clearer. 

Jesus, he had been a fucking idiot. Here he was complaining about not thinking and what does he go and do? Not think and almost get them killed. It was like his mind and body had given up and gone headfirst into anything that would kill him. What made it even worse was the fact that he nearly took Sam and the twins out with him. His brother would have never done that. Why couldn't he just be more like him? Why couldn't he have his brother with him right now?

Because he had gone headfirst into the thing that would've killed him but all it took was his friends and his brother. 

He wouldn't even be surprised if he had caused the sickness in the first place. 

"Turn onto the road!" Quinn instructed his sister. His voice brought Tucker back into reality and he smiled to himself. He remembered shaking hands with him because they had gotten off on the wrong foot and just a few minutes ago they had punched each other in the face. 

A jolt underneath the van sent Tucker up and then back down with a crash. It hurt, but he was smiling. The windows around them suddenly cleared of the zombies and the sun shined through. Sam had huddled into himself looking terrified. He was mumbling something to himself over and over again. Maybe he was praying. 

Tucker looked over to the cockpit as Victoria slowed the car down.

"Just keep a steady pace." Her brother stuttered. They were out of the hoard, and looking through the back windows showed that they weren't happy about losing their snacks. Some of them were sprinting for the van while others were barely dragging after it. Victoria pressed a few buttons and the tense feel of the car suddenly melted away.

"Four-wheel drive." She looked at him through the rearview mirror. Quinn looked at him straight on.

He unbuckled his seatbelt and slowly pulled himself up, getting a feel for the moving car. He stood in front of Tucker as he struggled to sit up.

"Where'd you learn how to do that?" He laughed. Why was he laughing?

"We do competitive double go-kart racing from time to time. Victoria wanted to try it. She was the driver, I was the spotter." Quinn told him casually, trying to catch his breath as the van rumbled on. 

"You two do everything together don't you?" Tucker couldn't help his giggly state. "Let me guess, because you did what she wanted, she had to do what you wanted?"

"Yes actually." He loosened his tie.

"So what'd you do?"

Quinn's calm facade fell as he glared at Tucker. "Ballet."

Tucker was about to say something else, but with one swift kick, Quinn had knocked him flat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy holidays, imma be taking a break. Might upload some stuff on the 25th, but who knowwwsss ;)


	6. Escape

"We need to get them," Quinn pointed behind them at the hoard. "Off of our ass before we lead them to a refugee camp."

"Where would we lead them? How do we even move around the city without attracting more of them?" Victoria asked. Most of the hoard had started to follow them as they went the way the police car had come from. Some had stayed behind to continue breaking into the buildings and she hoped the students would be able to handle them. 

Quinn scratched at his chin before he sat back down. "The radio."

A few quick button presses and the sound of static filled the car.

Tucker slowly raised his head back up as the twins tried to figure the radio out. Turning to his right he saw Samuel wringing his hands nervously. The man was shaken beyond belief when he saw the hoard and was probably trying to keep his nerves down from the fact that they had the hoard right behind them. 

"How's your shoulder?" Tucker asked as he slowly stood up and sat down in the seat across from Sam.

"It's fine." He avoided eye contact and looked out the back windows. It was scary. Feeling the van suddenly slow down and not knowing if they'd be able to speed up in time. Just a grasp away from the zombies.

Tucker didn't feel like laughing anymore. He wanted to apologize until his jaw fell off but he didn't. He just sat there and watched as the hoard followed them like stray cats following a toy mouse on a string. 

What the hell happened back there?

The static that had just begun to fade into the background of Tucker's mind suddenly switched over to actual dialog between two people.

"I mean it's madness!" A man said. "Absolute crazy talk!"

A woman tsked. "I agree with you, but what if it's real?"

"In case you just joined in," The man started chuckling. "We have just received news that zombies are a thing."

"No, we didn't, we received news that a virus has swept over a city. The virus is very similar to the flu except-"

"Except it turns people into brain eaters!"

"No, they are just prone to try and bite you." The woman sighed. "Authorities are trying their best to quarantine the city as we speak and are setting up makeshift hospitals in the center apparently."

"Why would they need makeshift hospitals?" The man asked.

"Apparently a lot of the sick ones overran the usual hospitals."

"Oh my god." Samuel whispered. With a depressing sigh, he set his head between his legs. The people on the radio continued to cover the story as if it was any other news. No one knew the severity yet. Only the people who've come face to face with zombies have.

"...Are trying very hard to keep the internet and power up in the city but that's a losing battle I've heard," A few audible mouse clicks. "Some people are saying that it was caused by a chemical spill of some sort, others are saying it's a dormant disease that's awakening in all of us, some say its Juuls," They both chuckle.

Quinn leaned over and turned the radio down. "We need to keep them away from the center. Head for the edge."

"But aren't they setting up quarantine at the edge?" Victoria questioned, turning a slow corner. "And what about mom? We can't pick her up with them on our tail."

"Why don't we," Tucker butted in. "Just leave your mom in the city and get to safety? We can tell who's there about the office firm holding so many precious lives."

"Shut the fuck up." Quinn snapped at him. "We don't need your two cents right now." He was just about turned back around when he looked back. "Also, would you mind telling me what the hell happened back there? Why did you go straight into the hoard? You could have gotten us killed!"

Tucker rolled his eyes. "You're the analytical one. You tell me." 

The death glare Quinn sent him was well deserved. "You're treating this like a joke. You almost killed us and you laughed like it was the funniest thing you had seen all week." He shook his head in disgust. "Maybe you're the sick one."

Maybe he was. "As far as I'm concerned I just ran over a bunch of murderers. I could have taken them all out if I hadn't gotten stuck."

"But you did get stuck. And if we hadn't jumped in, all of us would have been killed."

"'Killed this', 'Killed that', expand your vocabulary!"

Quinn gritted his teeth. "Fine. What you did could have made us end up like your brother."

Tucker held Quinn's glare for a moment before looking away.

Quinn flipped back into his seat and turned the radio up.

"Wow, oh my god." The radio people gasped. "That's horrible."

"An entire school almost got taken over?" A third voice on the radio asked. The mention of a school made Tucker sit up. He could see the twins do the same and all three of them suddenly became engrossed by the radio and what it was about to tell them.

"Yes, and there are many casualty reports. Not only did they lose their principal who sacrificed himself making sure everyone was inside," A few gasps. "But some of the infected people barged in and many students were lost in the ensuing struggle."

"Are the rest of them okay?"

"Many are injured and many are being taken out on airlifts…" The reader paused. "More and more stories are coming in. Places are being broken into by these sick people, and it's not looking good."

"Stay tuned everyone, we're covering this live right now. Our hearts go out to Westside Elementary and the survivors."

A show tune played and an ad for a local supermarket started.

"They weren't talking about the Views," Victoria stated. "This is happening everywhere."

Tucker ran a hand through his hair. Not good.

They were left in silence for a moment. Just a moment though. Because that's when Quinn pointed and shouted "Stop!"

Victoria slammed on the brakes. All of them had been distracted with the news and no one had noticed when Victoria pulled onto a street corner with a dead end. She pulled the stick shift into reverse and checked the rearview mirror. They were already halfway down the street and the hoard was right behind them. One took the opportunity and slammed itself against the back doors.

Samuel jumped out of his fetal position at the sound. His confused and wide-eyed look soon turned to panic as he realized what had happened. Quinn and Victoria didn't have time to panic in the front seat. All they could do was try and get them out of there. Stepping on the gas, Victoria quickly covered the remaining distance between them and the dead end. She came close to ramming into the dumpsters that sat next to a door. Both of them jumped out, and with a look back at the petrified Samuel, Tucker grabbed him and jumped out too.

With Sam in tow, Tucker weaved around the car towards the twins as they tried to get the door open.

"Did you bring a crowbar?" Victoria asked with fear in her voice. Tucker left Sam with the twins and ran for the back of the van. As he retched the double doors open, he caught view of the hoard as they made their way down the street. One came sprinting at Tucker giving him only enough time to jump into the back and shut the doors. Once again, it slammed itself against the doors, this time cracking the window. 

With his heart racing and his hands shaking, Tucker searched through the pile of tools he had grabbed. To his dismay, he had grabbed a dozen rakes and not one crowbar. Just as he cursed himself, his hand brushed against a long handle. Following the handle with his eyes, he found the head of an ax.

It was an ax!

His moment of happiness was cut short by the zombie who had rammed itself against the back doors. It was once again on the move and shuffling towards the front of the van where the twins and Sam were focused on getting the door opened. Grabbing the ax, Tucker jumped to the front seat. Through the windows, he could see the zombie break into a dead sprint. Working on instinct, Tucker opened the car door that was right in its path. With no momentum to slow down and with no awareness to go around, it smashed its head right through the window and flung its head down to sink its teeth into the first thing in its path, which happened to be Tucker's arm. 

Even through his leather jacket, Tucker felt the teeth sink in. He didn't have any room to swing the ax and iron jaws weren't going to let him go. The ax was suddenly ripped from his grip embedded into the zombie’s skull with a crack. Its jaw went slack and Tucker retched free. The bite had broken the skin but nothing else. It had been Samuel who had saved him once again. With a mighty pull, he retched the ax out of the zombie and went back to the door, his terrified face now almost impassive. 

Instead of following him, Tucker jumped back into the van and scrambled for any weapons he could carry. With a bleeding arm, he could only grab a hoe and a small scythe which he cradled in his injured arm while his other worked madly at pulling himself back out. As soon as he stepped onto the road the back windows were smashed open by the first wave of the hoard. 

They quickly realized that He had exited the vehicle and were going around the van to get him. Tucker counted at least three. Turning around he was just in time to see Samuel cut through the door, reach in, and unlock it. What surprised him was the fact that instead of running straight in, all three of them looked back for him. Seeing that he was inbound, or seeing that three zombies were inbound, they all went for the door. Quinn pushed his sister in first and was then shoved in himself by Samuel. The ginger man grabbed for Tucker as soon as he was in range and pulled him in as well. Tucker was following the twins as they ran for the nearest door in the foyer they stood in. There was no use in relocking the door and seeing if it would hold since they had axed it into oblivion. There was a set of stairs leading to a door but the twins ran past it looking for a backdoor that wouldn't take them up or down. The possibility of being trapped was high as they maneuvered through the unfamiliar hallways.

Daring a glance back, Tucker had to remind himself that Sam wasn't an ax-wielding maniac and that it was a good thing that he had been keeping up. But he didn't have to remind himself that the staggering man right behind was out to kill. 

"Duck!" Tucker yelled at Sam, skittering to a sudden halt. Sam stumbled past while keeping his head down. His lack of balance resulted in him rolly-polling with the ax in his arms but Tucker didn’t pay him any mind.

Using the same strategy with the zombie who had bitten his arm, he tossed the scythe to the side and raised the sharp end of the hoe. The zombie had no time to stop and with one well-timed swing Tucker had punctured its forehead and sent the zombie down in a heap. Using his good arm and with leverage from his foot, he slipped the hoe free. Not waiting for more to come bounding down the hall he snatched the scythe back up and was once again following the group.

They hadn't slowed down and Tucker didn't blame them. He only knew which way to go from Sam as he caught glances of him for a split second as he turned corners. Every time his burning lungs tried to convince his brain to stop for a moment, the sound of feet right behind him kept Tucker going. He didn't have the guts to turn back and look, all he knew was that there was no reason to. All three of his friends were in front of him and everything behind him was something he didn't want to catch up.

Tucker was so focused on keeping his legs moving and his heart beating that he didn't notice the side door that was opened to his left. He would have completely missed it if someone hadn't reached out and grabbed him just as he was running passed. Stumbling into the room, Tucker heard the door close behind him as he dropped his garden tools and grabbed for the nearest thing to keep balance. The thing he grabbed just happened to be Quinn and instead of regaining his balance, Tucker just brought both of them down.

Quinn groaned underneath his weight but Tucker couldn't bring himself to get off him just yet. The chase had left him gasping for breath. His lungs burned and for some reason, his teeth hurt. To think that he used to do track and run for fun was preposterous.

Tucker could tell that he wasn't the only one catching his breath. The room was filled with heavy breathing and swallowing. It all suddenly died down though, and the sound of many pairs of footsteps running past the closed door filled the empty silence. Tucker felt Quinn go stiff underneath him. If the zombies were smart enough to check and open the door they were screwed. He hoped the door had a lock on it.

When the steps finally died away, Tucker slowly sat himself up. He was basically straddling Quinn but he couldn't bring himself to care. What he did care about was the two new faces in the room with them.

One was an older man in a custodian outfit. His hair had long turned silver and it was a wonder how he hadn't retired yet. The other was a much younger girl. Her eyes were red and puffy, and her golden curls were disheveled. She coughed into a tissue as quietly as she could. 

"Are you okay?" She whispered with a hoarse voice.

The feeling of blood trickling down his arm reminded Tucker that he had been bitten. "No."

He stood up and swore. Quinn let out a sigh of relief now that he could breathe, and everyone else was trying to get their bearings back. Stretching, Tucker assessed everyone in the room and was happy to note that they had all made it. His happiness was faulted though, for that's when the girl started to cough much harder. 

"Oh shit," He backed away to a wall. They were a room filled to the brim with filing cabinets with the only source of light coming from the one fluorescent light above them. "She's sick!"

"What?" Quinn asked as he stood up, brushing his pants off.

Victoria gasped. "Oh my god, she is!"

The girl looked around at them confused. Sam had dropped his ax and was sitting on the ground with his head in his hands. He wasn't taking in the situation and was busying himself by muttering.

"What do you mean 'she's sick'?" The old custodian started to put himself between the girl and the group.

"That's what makes people go crazy. They get sick and then they try and take a chunk out of you." Tucker rolled his sleeve up. Everyone seemed surprised by his bloody arm. 

Quinn smacked his head. "We didn't bring the first aid kit." 

"We have one!" The girl croaked. "And I'm not sick like them!"

"What do you mean?" Tucker started pacing.

"It's pneumonia. I've had it for weeks."

"How do we know?" Quinn interrupted.

Victoria looked at him appalled. "Because she said she wasn't."

"I know, but we can't lock ourselves in a room with someone who might," He swallowed and eyed Tucker's arm. "Hurt us."

"What about you?" Tucker pointed at the custodian. "Who are you?"

"I'm her father." The man straightened up but his attempt at being intimidating only sparked pity in Tucker. "Gus Aspar."

"Asparagus?" Tucker raised an eyebrow.

"Please," The girl croaked. "I'm not sick like them. I'm not going to hurt anyone!"

"Deme," Gus turned to her. "Don't listen to them. You shouldn't be getting worked up like this."

"You saw the people who were chasing us." Tucker interrupted him. "I'm not going to wait for her to start getting hungry and go Hannibal Lector on us."

"Tucker!" Quinn gasped. Even that was a bit too much for him.

"You've seen what those things can do!" He argued.

"I don't have the sickness!" 

"How do we know?"

Gus stepped forward. "If she truly is sick then what do you suggest we do?" 

Tucker paused. "Look, we can't take chances alright. A lot of people have died already, okay? My  _ brother  _ was killed by one of those things. Even though I want nothing more in the world than to see him again," His voice started breaking but he kept himself composed. "I'm not in a hurry to join him on the other side. If she's  _ sick, _ "

"She's not like them." Gus shook his head.

"If she's sick," He repeated himself. "We can't hesitate."

"If she's sick like that, then I'll be the one to take care of her." The old man sniffed. "I understand what's happening so trust me when I say this. She's not sick."

Tucker looked from the frightened Deme, who looked as if she was questioning whether or not she  _ was  _ sick, and her much older father. It pained him to say it, but he had to be realistic. "If she starts throwing up or anything like that, we know what's going to happen." He thought back on all of the symptoms. "Toilet paper eater was sick, the Captain was sick, Riley was sick, and Maria was sick. So-"

"No."

Tucker blinked and looked around the room. It was Samuel.

"Maria wasn't sick. I remember that much."

"But she-" Tucker started but was cut off by Sam holding his hand up.

"I know. I was there. But she wasn't sick." He started rubbing his arms nervously and eyeing Tucker. "But the virus was given to her. I just know it." He struggled to find the right words. "It was given to her by Riley."

"This isn't the walking dead," Tucker repeated the famous last words of the Juulers. "This isn't some infection that can be transferred by a bite."

"How do you know?" His eyes shifted from Deme to Tucker. "How do you know it's not infectious? We don't know how long it takes for someone to turn. Maybe it's different for each person. Some take only minutes, others," His eyes settled onto Deme. "Maybe weeks. We don't know. And until we do we have to be cautious."

"Bullshit." Tucker scoffed. But even as the words left his mouth, he started to bounce from one foot to the other. Anxiety started to pulse through him as he realized that they truly didn't know if they were safe. He didn't know if he was about to turn into the very thing that killed his brother. 

The more he thought about it the more he wondered. If he turned, what would happen to him? Would he be unconscious or would he be aware of what he was doing? Would he care?

He shook his head trying to scatter his thoughts. With a deep breath, he reminded himself to be realistic but not think about it too much that he upsets himself. There was a chance he could turn. The only funny feeling he had was the throbbing in his arm but that was normal. There's a chance that he could get sick but that could be anything. A cold, or an infection because of his arm. But if he started to vomit and get pasty skin…

He'll get there when it happens.  _ If  _ it happens.

Now he just felt bad for putting Deme through the same thought process. But it was necessary for everyone's safety. It wouldn't be fair to hide anything that could cause harm to them. 

Of course, that begs the question. Would he have shown his arm to them if he knew it meant that he was going to turn?

No. No point in thinking about things that already happened. Doing that almost killed them once. But it was hard to not think about the many fucked decisions he had made that brought him to where he was now. 

He finally stopped bouncing and looked at Samuel.

"We'll be cautious." Was all he said about the manner. In the corner of his eye, he saw Deme move towards the back of the room. She came back quickly with a small white box.

"It's not much, just a few wipes and bandaids, but it should help your arm."

And here he thought he couldn't feel shittier. "Thanks."

He took the box with an awkward nod went back towards the twins and Sam. The room was divided with a large gap between the two groups. Victoria was the one who broke the border and went to the other side. She sat next to Deme and struck up a quiet conversation. 

As Tucker watched her, the box was slipped from his hands by Quinn.

"Come on," He said barely above a whisper. Tucker was too caught up in his thoughts to question Quinn and followed him towards the back of the room. Tucker was thankful for the space between him and the rest of the group. He felt awkward for jumping to conclusions and upsetting everyone. If his brother were here, he'd know what to do. But he wasn't. 

Sitting against a file cabinet, Tucker drew his knees up to his chest. Before he could wrap his arms around his legs and shut the world out, Quinn grabbed his bitten arm and observed it. Looking at the small box of bandaids, Quinn let out a defeated sigh before he even tried. 

The bite wasn't bad but it was bloody. The arm of his leather jacket had indents but wasn't torn thankfully. Was it vain of him to hold the quality of his jacket over his own skin? Maybe. He didn't really care.

The stinging coming from his arm brought him out of his thoughts. Quinn was lightly wiping the blood away and stopped when he felt Tucker flinch at the pain.

"I can do that on my own." Tucker growled and tried to pull away.

"I'm more qualified to fix this." Quinn pulled his arm back. "The health ed at Golden View covers everything from lacerations to bullet wounds. Broad View's education barely covers CPR." He explained, already bandaging Tucker's arm with the few band aids they had.

"Shut up. I hate when you talk like that."

Quinn paused. "Talk like what?"

"Like you're superior to everyone in the room all because you took a summer class about kayaking two years ago."

"I've never been kayaking."

"You might never be able to. We might not make it out of this alive. I certainly won't if this bite turns me into a zombie."

Quinn finished putting band aids on and turned his work over. "That's true. But there's also the fact that you can't keep yourself out of trouble. You seem to always be looking for it and being caught up to your ears in it."

Tucker licked his lips nervously. "I'm sorry. About the whole van situation. I didn't care whether or not I got all of us killed. I just wanted them to pay for…" He looked down solemnly. It was hard to push away the thought of his brother but this wasn't the time to mourn. "And I know that's not an excuse, and I understand if you…"

His breath was caught in his throat. Quinn was still smoothing out the band aids even though they seemed perfect. But he stopped when he noticed Tucker's quietness.

"If I what? Don't forgive you?" 

"That and leave me here."

Quinn let go of Tucker's arm and didn't even try to hide his scowl. "Why would we do that?"

"We don't know if this is gonna turn me into one of them. I almost got all of you killed once, I'm not going to do it again." He held his injured arm close. "I'd be a hypocrite if I suggested to leave that girl here when there's a possibility that she'd turn and not do the same for myself."

"There are worse things than hypocrisy."

"Why do you care?"

"Because, like it or not, we are the best bet the schools have at getting help. We need to stick together."

Tucker shook his head. "You can get them help without me dragging you down. If I turn-"

"You're not going to turn. That doesn't make sense so don't entertain the idea." Quinn cut him off. "You were bit through your jacket right?"

Tucker nodded.

"Then unless the virus is airborne, there's no way it could have entered your body. Not through spit or blood."

"How do you know?"

Quinn laughed softly. "Because I took a summer class about viruses two years ago."

"So instead of kayaking, you did a science class?" Tucker questioned.

"I want to try as many things as I can before I have to make the choice of what I want to be forever." His smile fell. "Although right now I'm not sure I'm going to live long enough to get that choice."

A thick silence fell between them. Only the soft murmuring at the front of the room filled the quietness.

"You still haven't answered me." Tucker started slowly. "You don't need me to get them help."

Quinn squinted at him. "Why are you so keen on being left behind?"

The saliva in his mouth suddenly became too thick and he had to swallow before answering. "Maybe I lied. Maybe I do want to be with my brother on the other side."

He looked away before he could see Quinn's expression. 

"Would he want that?"

Tucker's eyes brimmed with tears but he held them back. "No. He wouldn't want that. But…" He wiped his eyes and pushed down the pain in his chest that threatened to choke him. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for being a dick and almost getting all of you killed."

"I'll forgive you," Quinn patted him on the shoulder. "But only if you promise me something.

He sniffed and turned back to Quinn. "What?"

"Don't do it again. Even if you're in the same situation and we're not there with you, don't do it."

"Why do you care?" 

He turned his head questioningly. "Because, even if you've been a giant pain in the ass since the moment I met you, you're a person with a life. To cut it short like that would be wrong. Too many lives have already been lost. I don't want to lose you too."

"Malcolm had a life. What about him?"

Quinn shrugged. "I don't know. But the fact that he didn't want to die should tell you something. He wouldn't want you to die as well. So stay strong. For him."

And with that, Quinn stood up and walked back to the group, leaving Tucker sitting there and rubbing his bandaged arm thoughtfully.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aight, break over but i might keep this uploading schedule cause im lazzzzzzzy  
> love ya for reading and sticking around 😘


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